The Final Trial
by Kendris
Summary: Camden believed that he was ready for Drogan's final trial, but what he found himself faced with was something he never expected.
1. Chapter 1

_All right, I finally took a break from WoW long enough to start SoU, and as I suspected, the plot bunnies started jumping (like I really needed another story to work on). I plan on updating this as I go through the game, so it might be a slow process (I'm still a WoW addict, you see); I eventually plan on taking my boy all the way through HotU, but we'll see how it goes. As always, constructive reviews, both positive and negative, are welcomed_.

* * *

Camden woke quickly, not in his usual fashion: a leisurely ascent from slumber accompanied a by great deal of yawning and lazy stretching. Though instantly alert, he kept his eyes closed and remained motionless, waiting for his remaining senses to confirm what his instincts told him.

Someone was in his room.

The faintest scrape of metal on metal provided all the proof he needed. In one fluid movement, he threw back his blankets and launched himself toward the foot of the bed, where he kept the chest containing most of his possessions. The intruder who knelt in front of the chest was taken completely by surprise, and in the blink of an eye, Camden had them shoved face-first against the wall, right arm twisted behind and up between their shoulder blades.

"Owww!" His opponent squirmed in a futile effort to escape his grasp, a set of lock picks falling from suddenly nerveless fingers to the floor. "Dammit, Cam, let me go!"

Releasing his grip, Camden stepped back as Dorna Trapspringer spun around to glare at him, massaging her right hand to bring the feeling back into it. "How d'ye do that, Cam?" she demanded, bending to retrieve her lockpicks. "I wasn't making noise enough to disturb a mouse!"

Camden shrugged, seating himself on the unopened chest. "Guess I sleep lighter than a mouse, then," he replied with an easy grin.

Dorna snorted as she straightened up, then her eyes widened and she spun around abruptly, her face suddenly flaming. "Cover yerself, man!" she exclaimed.

Puzzled, Cam looked down and suddenly remembered that he had been so tired following yesterday's weapons practice that he had stripped out of his clothes and fallen into bed without even trying to find his pajama bottoms. "Shouldn't be sneaking into people's bedrooms if you can't handle the view," he teased her, but he reached behind him and pulled the top blanket from his bed, wrapping it around his waist. "Better?"

She peered around cautiously and nodded curtly. "Yer not s'posed ta wake up," she groused, the blush fading from her cheeks. "Mischa and Xanos never do; I could've robbed them both blind by now, if I'd a mind to." She gave a shudder. "Ye don't suppose that Xanos sleeps in the altogether, do ye? Yer not bad to look at, but I've no wish t' see a naked half orc."

Camden chuckled. "I've never checked, but if you're worried, I'd stick with Mischa; she sleeps in a nightgown that covers her from neck to toes."

The dwarf eyed him with a wicked grin. "And how would ye know _that_, Mister Delaine?"

Cam's answering grin was totally unrepentant. "Master Drogan has instructed us to practice our skills whenever the opportunity presents itself," he replied, "and Mischa is a sound sleeper; you could probably rearrange the furniture without waking her. You're not much better, though," he added as an afterthought, "and you snore."

"I do not!" Dorna exclaimed, then gasped. "Ye have _not_!"

"No?" He cocked an eyebrow at her, dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Then how would I know about your collection of frilly nighties? I'd never have guessed you were so fond of pink."

"Me mother made me bring those!" Dorna protested, her face even redder than it had been earlier. "And if ye tell anyone about them, I'll…I'll…"

"Who would I tell?" Camden replied. "I doubt that Mischa and Xanos would be happy to know that we creep their rooms while they're sleeping, even though we don't take anything." He paused, eying her with mock concern. "You don't take anything, do you?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "D'ye really think I'd risk being expelled for the sake of Mischa's book of prayers or Xanos' preening mirror? I just pick the locks and practice moving quiet, same as you."

Cam nodded, although in truth, he hadn't snuck into any of his classmates' rooms in weeks, since it had become apparent that there was no challenge to it.

"D'ye think that Master Drogan knows about it?" Dorna wondered suddenly, her broad features creasing with concern.

"I doubt that much goes on in this school that Master Drogan doesn't know about," Camden replied. He didn't mention the one time that he had tried sneaking into Drogan's basement laboratory, only to find the old dwarf sitting in a chair by the big fireplace in the main room, waiting for him when he had come back up after discovering that magical wards prevented entry. He had stood before the wizard in silence, cursing his stupid curiosity and certain that he would be sent packing, but Drogan had only smiled knowingly.

"I appreciate your desire to test your skills, Camden," Drogan had told him in his deep, gentle voice, "but I must ask that you leave the basement out of your efforts. There are things secured there that could cause harm – to you and to others – if you stumbled over them unaware."

"Will you show me how to get past wards like those, though?" Cam wanted to know. He had never encountered magical barriers before, and the prospect of defeating them interested him keenly.

Drogan laughed quietly. "Aye, lad; there are ways to bring down or get around all but the strongest of wards, and that will be part of your education here," he paused, regarding the young man seriously, "but only if you promise not to test what I teach you in the basement."

Camden had promised readily, and kept that promise faithfully. He had a talent for getting into mischief, but he also had an instinctive awareness of when he had reached a line that should not be crossed. He respected and admired Drogan, and the dwarven wizard's approval meant almost as much to him as that of his own father. True to his word, Drogan had taught him a variety of methods for dealing with magical wards, but Camden strongly suspected that what protected the lab would require the skills of a powerful mage to bring down.

To Dorna, he only said, "Master Drogan will tell you if you're doing something he doesn't approve of; he's a fair man."

"That he is," Dorna agreed emphatically, then yawned. "Now, if ye will excuse me, I think I'll slip back to me own bed before the others wake up." She snickered. "Her holiness would have a right smart fit if she caught me coming out of yer room at night."

"I doubt she'd be surprised, though," Camden replied with a crooked smile. "She's already convinced that I'm bound for damnation, as it is." Mischa Waymeet, the school's resident paladin-in-waiting, made no secret of her disapproval of Camden's preferred extracurricular activities, which consisted primarily of drinking, gambling and wenching in the nearby town of Hilltop.

"Ah, but I must protect m'own good reputation, then," Dorna shot back with a wink as she slipped out the door.

Chuckling, Camden climbed back into his bed and was sound asleep in minutes.

OOOO

"Xanos, you know _nothing_ of what being a paladin entails!"

Camden rolled over, not needing the faint light filtering through the closed shutters to tell him that morning had arrived. Ever since Mischa had arrived, as surely as the sun rose, the squabbling would begin.

Of course, sometimes he himself was the instigator, but –

_It's a wonder that Drogan hasn't muzzled the lot of us, _he thought, as he sat up, pulling on trousers, boots and tunic before exiting the room to see what the fuss was about this time.

Mischa stood in the hallway, glaring angrily at Xanos Messarnos, looking almost petite beside the height and massive build of the half-orc, despite the fact that she was nearly as tall as Camden.

"Neither do you as yet, little girl," Xanos replied with a smugly superior air, "nor do you know what should be obvious: when Master Drogan tells you to do something, you _do_ it!"

"He wanted me to save a goblin!" Mischa protested.

"A goblin child," Dorna corrected her from her doorway.

"Goblins are evil," the girl insisted stubbornly, "and it is the duty of a paladin to fight evil."

"But is the evil the result of nature or nurture?" Camden asked, unable to resist needling her. "If you saved a goblin child and gave it to good people to raise, might it not grow up good? And would that not be another way of fighting evil?"

She gave him what she obviously considered a withering glance, but he resisted its effect with no real effort. She was pretty enough: blonde haired, blue-eyed and fair skinned, but her ice princess demeanor had defied his early attempts at charm, and her naïve self-righteousness made her all too easy – and entertaining – to bait. "I wouldn't expect someone like _you_ to understand," she replied scornfully.

"Like _me_?" Cam affected a wounded expression. "I've – I've disappointed you, haven't I?" Dropping to his knees before her, he raised his clasped hands to her beseechingly. "Please, your holiness, I beg you to give this poor, drunken wretch the chance to regain your favor!"

She stepped away from him, cheeks flushed with anger as Xanos and Dorna howled with laughter at his performance. "You don't take anything seriously, do you – any of you?" she demanded. "We're here to learn to do good, not to act like children!"

"Somebody has to offset you, Mischa," Cam replied with a grin, getting to his feet, "and you're serious enough for all of us."

"Besides, strictly speakin', we're not here to learn to do good," Dorna added with a pragmatic shrug. "I'm here to learn skills that will help my da." Dorna's father was a bounty hunter, and in the absence of any sons was counting on his eldest daughter to continue the family business. "Cam is learning how thieves work so he can help protect his family's merchandise, and Xanos is learning to combine his fighting abilities with his spellcasting."

"And Xanos will surely become the greatest at both," the half orc exclaimed with his customary modesty, "and have adventuring groups clamoring for his skills!" He smirked at Mischa. "And you, little girl, are here to learn to fight, so that if by some miracle you are accepted by some Order desperate enough to take you, you will know which end of a sword to hold!"

"She's actually pretty good with a sword, Xanos," Camden corrected him mildly. In truth, the girl was quickly becoming better with most weapons than any of them, but he wasn't about to admit that in front of her. _Besides, she'd be useless in a street brawl; her opponent would kill her while she was saluting them._

Mischa did not seem to have heard his words, however; her blue eyes were fixed on Xanos, flashing indignantly. "If? _If_?" She spluttered wordlessly for several more seconds, then spun and ran down the stairs.

"Going to cry on Drogan's shoulder, no doubt," the half orc said, rolling his eyes in disgust. "But that reminds me, Camden: Xanos saw Master Drogan this morning, and he asked Xanos to tell you that he would like to speak with you after breakfast." He grinned, showing even more of the tusks that jutted from his lower jaw. "Perhaps he wishes to discuss your final test, yes?"

"Could be," Camden replied, with considerably more enthusiasm than he felt. Completing Drogan's training meant returning home and waiting for his father to decide what he would be allowed to do.

"It's got to be soon, Camden," Dorna exclaimed. "Yer the most senior of the four of us; d'ye think yer ready for it?"

Camden shrugged. While he was certain that he had mastered all that he had been taught, he knew that he had much, much more that he could learn from Drogan; he'd given thought to deliberately failing his final test, but he was not sure if he would be allowed to stay on if he did.

"He said that he would be in his laboratory," Xanos continued, looking at him curiously. The half-orc had come to Drogan's only a few weeks after Camden, and he was bursting with eagerness to take his final test so that he could embark upon his life's goal of becoming a wealthy and famed adventurer. "What could he wish to discuss, if not your final test?"

"Only one way to find out," Cam replied, sauntering down the stairs. "Might as well eat first, though; Mischa's likely to be in there a while."

The other two followed him downstairs, their pace quickening as the scent of ham reached their noses. Nani, the cook, eyed them as they trooped into the kitchen. A tall, slightly portly woman with steel grey hair, twinkling blue eyes and a grandmotherly demeanor that could change in an instant to rival that of the sternest drill sergeant, she had been with the school since Drogan had opened it. The meals that she fed the students were simple, good-tasting and plentiful, providing ample fuel for the sometimes rigorous training that Drogan required of his students,but on holidays and special occasions, she could produce delicacies that would have been welcomed at the tables of royalty.

"Mischa seems upset this morning, " she remarked pointedly. "She just went into see Drogan without even stopping for breakfast."

"The girl needs t' stop takin' herself and everything else so seriously," Dorna told the woman tartly.

"She's young," Nani admonished her, "and she's led a sheltered life until now. She's not used to the verbal horseplay that you three use with each other."

"She doesn't seem to have any trouble dishing it out," Cam observed as he swept two thick ham steaks and a heap of scrambled eggs onto a plate, topping the pile off with several biscuits and pouring a mug of apple cider. "She's told every one of us exactly what she thinks of us, but let one of us so much as look crosswise at her and she goes running to Drogan."

"Pshaw! She's not that bad, Cam! She's no worse than any of you were when you arrived."

"She's been here six months, Nani," Cam pointed out as he headed for the dining room table. "How long do we have to put up with it?"

"As long as Drogan tells you to, young man," the cook shot back, taking a swipe at his backside with a wooden spoon as he passed her, chuckling as he deftly dodged the blow while keeping the precariously stacked food on his plate balanced.

Seating himself at the long table, he grabbed two clay jars and began slathering the hot biscuits with butter and mulberry jam. As Dorna and Xanos joined him, he heard the door to Drogan's lab open, then slam shut, and quick footsteps sounding on the wooden floor in the direction of the stairs to their bedrooms. Sliding his chair back, he stood and leaned out the door to the dining hall.

"Mischa, breakfast is getting cold!"

The girl turned her face from him as she crossed the large main hall, but not before he caught sight of the shining tracks of tears on her cheeks.

_Aww, hells._ He started across the hall toward her. "Hey, Mischa –"

"Leave me alone!" She spun away from him and ran up the stairs.

Cam stared after her in frustration. _Dammit. _Crying women were one of his weaknesses, but he didn't figure that following her would do any good. Turning around, he saw Dorna standing in the door to the dining hall, her expression a mixture of irritation and guilt. Giving her a shrug, he returned to the table, where Xanos was shoveling in his breakfast without a hint of concern. Sitting back down, he began to eat. Drogan had said that he wanted to speak to him _after_ breakfast, and since Mischa's tears were almost certain to be included in the conversation, he was not inclined to rush his meal.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks for the R&R, guys!**_

_**Special thanks & lots of hugs to Tasharene for being my beta reader!**_

* * *

Drogan Droganson leaned back in his chair with a weary sigh as the sound of Mischa's footsteps faded, wondering if he had not become too old for the enterprise he had begun years earlier. Was it a coincidence that this group of students was the most challenging that he could recall, or was it evidence of his own failing ability?

When he had decided to retire from adventuring with more than enough wealth to keep him comfortable for the rest of his life, the same sense of responsibility that had led him to join the Harpers had resulted in the formation of the school, where a small but select number of students were taught the collective lessons of a lifetime of experience, lessons that might help to keep them alive on their chosen paths in life. For three decades now, he had trained countless students from every race and social class imaginable. Those with the ability to pay did so, but if he found a talented youth who lacked money, he would not allow that to be a barrier to training, and he neither made nor tolerated any class distinctions among students.

This was the smallest group of students that he had had in some years; it should have made them easier to handle, but Drogan, normally the most patient of dwarves, frequently found himself fighting the urge to tear his beard out in frustration.

Mischa had come to him six months ago, the youngest child of a paladin whom he had adventured with years ago. Tyrfael Waymeet had been new to his station as a Paladin of Helm when Drogan had first met him and, as was common with young paladins, possessed of ample righteousness but little idea of how to go about applying it. He had matured considerably during the two years spent in the dwarf's company and over the years had advanced to high rank within his Order. His family life, however, had not been as successful.

He had married a wealthy woman, fathering three daughters and two sons, but his devotion to Helm took precedence over any claim that his family had on him, and it was not unusual for him to be gone for months at a time from his home in Athkatla, returning for a few days, then leaving again. One of his sons had followed in his footsteps; the other had become a merchant seaman, likely as much out of rebellion as anything else. His two oldest daughters had both married well, but Mischa was determined to emulate the father that she so seldom saw. Unfortunately, with no real guidance from her father, the girl's ideas of what a paladin should be were constructed from a combination of youthful idealism and dozens of fictional tales that portrayed paladins as shining examples of good: flawless and unshakeable. Rather than attempt to correct her misperceptions himself, Tyrfael had written to Drogan, asking him to accept Mischa as a student, teaching her combat skills as he attempted to soften her resolutely black-and-white view of the world.

It was ironic, Drogan mused, that a man who could face a dragon without flinching could be so intimidated by the prospect of dealing with his own child. He had hoped that interacting with the other students would encourage Mischa to develop a broader perspective, but thus far she had mixed with them as successfully as oil with water, and opposition only seemed to harden her stance.

_Never mind,_ he told himself resolutely. _There's still time to work with her. I just have to find the right approach._

Of the four, Dorna caused him the least amount of worry; her father was another that Drogan had worked with in the past: several times over the last century, in fact, and she had obviously inherited Diernan Trapspringer's stolid practicality.

Dwarves, while not as long-lived as elves, nonetheless viewed the passing of time from a much different perspective than did humans, and Drogan could not help but marvel that Diernan already had children of his own near adulthood, but then he snorted in rueful amusement. That realization had become more and more common as he aged, and a growing number of his students were the offspring of those he had either worked with or assisted in his long career as an adventurer and a Harper…including most of the current group.

Xanos Messarnos was the only exception. Drogan had initially been hesitant when the half-orc had approached him with his dreams of power, glory and wealth, but while the youth's ambitions were not unusual for his race, his intelligence and aptitude for magic were. The dwarf was shrewd enough to realize that if he did not train Xanos, the half-orc would search until he found one who would – one who might or might not teach him to use his skills responsibly. A year and a half later, however, his arrogance had not appreciably lessened, although his skills had grown greatly, and Drogan had serious misgivings about sending him into the world. Only his respect for Drogan and the odd liking that he had taken to Camden kept him in line in the school, but he bullied the younger students as much as he could. Dorna simply shrugged it off, and if he persisted, had shown herself more than capable of holding her own. He had found an easy target in Mischa, however, and while Drogan's policy was to let the students work out their issues as much as possible, he knew that he would have to step in before much longer. Camden's easygoing nature normally buffered Xanos' abrasiveness, but in his exasperation with Mischa's overbearing self-righteousness, the lad had lately been baiting her almost as much as the half-orc had.

Drogan sighed as he turned his attention to his most pressing concern, eyes scanning a sheaf of letters that he pulled from a drawer of his work desk. Camden "Delaine" had come to the school two years ago at the behest of his father, a man whom Drogan had assisted while working for the Harpers. The alias had been Drogan's suggestion to Alexyr, along with the fictitious history of being the son of a wealthy merchant family. Drogan had long years of experience in dealing with class distinctions, and he knew that if Camden were recognized for who he was, it would be all but impossible to integrate him with the other students.

Fortunately, Cam had not objected to the deception; on the contrary, he relished playing the role that he had been given, and had concocted a detailed personal history for himself. The boy had a natural talent for such things, and Drogan had been strongly tempted to try to recruit him into the Harpers. He frowned as he stared at the most recent of the letters, received only yesterday.

_My old friend,_

_I am beyond grateful for your offer to allow Camden to remain at the school to assist you following the completion of his studies. Despite my continued efforts at persuasion, his mother remains adamantly against allowing him to serve in either the RIS or the Harpers. She tries to hide behind arguments of propriety, but I know that she fears the thought of him placing himself in harm's way. She sees him not as you and I do: a young man needing to prove his worth to himself. For her, he remains her youngest child, and I know that she will always think of him thusly, even when he is married with children of his own._

_Nonetheless, I will continue to try to make her understand that children grow up. Camden is old enough to choose his own path, but dutiful enough that he will not defy his mother's wishes, but I know that he will be miserable if he is forced to return to Lyrabar to live the life expected of one of his rank, and fear that his discontent will eventually lead to a rebellion that will break Sarai's heart. I hope that remaining with you, continuing to learn from you, will be compromise enough to satisfy him until I can convince Sarai to permit him to make his own choices. _

_I have included sufficient funds for another year's tuition; if, as I expect, you refuse to accept pay, then use the money to sponsor another worthy student. _

_With warmest regards,_

_Alexyr_

The signature was simple, with no flourishes or additions to indicate his rank. Alexyr Deloessian, King of Impiltur, was not given to ostentatious displays of his status, a trait that he had fortunately passed on to his son. Even when not immersed in the fictitious role that he had assumed, Camden displayed almost none of the attitudes associated with royalty, but then, given his past, that was hardly surprising.

As the fifth son and youngest child of Alexyr and Sarai, Camden had never been a likely candidate for the throne, particularly after his two eldest brothers married and had sons of their own, but the boy had never seemed bothered by this fact. Quite the contrary, in fact: he had never made any secret of his relief at being spared the possibility of ever having to shoulder the heaviest of royal duties, and had always been quite happy to enjoy the privileges of his blood. Though far from lazy, he had been bored by the typical responsibilities of royalty, and for Camden, the worst fate in the world had always been boredom.

The well meaning court magician who thought to amuse the quick-witted and agile lad by teaching him some simple sleight-of-hand tricks soon regretted his kindhearted impulse. Camden proved to have a natural instinct for petty larceny and easily translated prestidigitation into pickpocketing. Prowling through his father's court, he regularly relieved the nobility of countless coin and numerous small but expensive items, which he used to bribe the less dedicated members of the palace guard into letting him out of the castle walls at night. Entering the city of Lyrabar, he soon located the Thieves' Guild and offered himself to them as an apprentice, using the same ill-gotten gains to pay for his training. The guildmaster, impressed by his boldness and amused at the idea, agreed, and so the Crown Prince of Thieves was born.

It took several years, but Alexyr finally discovered his son's nocturnal forays, and the means that he used to fund them. The king was naturally appalled, and restricted his son to the castle grounds. Camden, who believed firmly in the idea of begging forgiveness rather than asking permission, nonetheless knew better than to disobey a direct order. He complied, but soon found other ways to occupy his time.

At seventeen, he had matured into the good looks that he had inherited from his father, and while not a physically large man, his time with the thieves had given him a cocky, rakish bearing, and he had been quite popular with many of the less reputable ladies of Lyrabar. It did not take the young man long to discover that his charms were just as effective on Duchesses and Contessas. He continued prowling his father's court, but his attentions had shifted from the nobles' valuables to their wives. After one indignant complaint too many from cuckolded husbands, Alexyr put his foot down firmly: Camden was to curtail his dalliances and find a constructive outlet for his energies.

Cam had almost immediately suggested the Royal Intelligence Service, but Sarai had balked at the idea of her son becoming a spy. Alexyr had suggested training with Drogan as a compromise, and a delaying tactic to allow him time to convince his wife (Drogan strongly suspected that the Queen had been given only the vaguest of descriptions of Cam's training).

Camden had agreed, and had thrown himself into his studies with enthusiasm, quickly showing himself to be one of the most promising students that Drogan had ever taught, but it was plain to the dwarf that the lad believed that he would never be given the chance to utilize what he had learned. Drogan had never seen so much talent combined with so little ambition. Resigned to spending his life within the confines dictated by his rank, Camden seemed to have no goals higher than avoiding boredom. His free hours were spent in Hilltop, drinking, gambling with the locals and bedding a series of women that he juggled seemingly without effort. These pastimes quite naturally offended Mischa's ideas of propriety, and the clashes between the two of them were quickly becoming as contentious as the arguments between the girl and Xanos.

Drogan raised his head at a knock on the door. "Come in," he called. The door opened and closed, and a moment later, Camden entered the lab.

"Xanos said that you wanted to talk to me, sir?" The boy's dark eyes were as friendly and open as usual, but Drogan could see the shadow of worry in them.

"I did," he replied, pulling a sealed envelope from his desk and passing it to Cam. "Letter from home."

Camden accepted the envelope readily, breaking the wax seal and quickly scanning the pages within. He remained close to his family, and the missives that arrived at regular intervals from Impiltur were eagerly anticipated. "Laurora had her baby!" he announced, his tanned face breaking into the smile that had women all over Hilltop mooning after him.

"Laurora…your oldest brother's wife?" Drogan asked.

Cam nodded. "Their third…and another boy. The line of succession is definitely secure, I think."

"Meaning that there's little chance of you ever being forced to ascend the throne?"

Camden gave him a crooked grin. "Precisely. After Myles and his three boys, there's Eavin and his twin sons. Jaisin just got married last fall; wouldn't be surprised if Kaitryn isn't expecting by now…no mention of it yet, though," he said, continuing to scan the letter, "but Mother says that she expects Gerran to announce his engagement to Nia any day now. I think I'm safe," he announced with visible satisfaction.

"Safe from the throne, maybe," Drogan observed with a twinkle in his eyes, "but once all your brothers and sisters are married off, you know what your mother's next project is going to be, don't you?"

Camden groaned theatrically. "I'm trying _not_ to think about that, sir!"

"Well, if the ladies of Hilltop are any indication, there should be no shortage of volunteers," Drogan replied, unable to resist teasing him.

"Nah." Camden ran his fingers through his black hair, which was cut shorter than the current fashions dictated, but was kept in perpetual disarray by his habit. The effect only served to add to his roguish good looks, however, and Drogan knew damn well that Cam _knew_ it; he had, in fact, watched more than once as the boy paused before a mirror for a bit of artful mussing. "I doubt any of them are looking at me like that. We have a good time, but I'm not the type that they want to marry."

"And that's the way you want it?" the dwarf asked.

Camden shrugged. "It keeps things simple. I have fun, they have fun. No strings attached, and nobody gets hurt." The words were casually spoken, but there was an undercurrent in his voice that drew Drogan's attention.

He eyed Cam shrewdly. "Someone got hurt once…didn't they?"

"Yeah." Cam looked away and was silent for a long moment before continuing. "She was a servant in the palace. It was right after Father made me promise not to go into Lyrabar at night any more. I was just interested in fooling around, and I thought she was, too."

"She fell in love with you?" Drogan guessed. "Or was she just looking to sire a royal bastard?"

"No!" Cam shook his head emphatically. "She was a sweet girl. She was always flirting with the guards, letting them flirt back, so I started flirting, too. I thought…well, I thought wrong. When I took her to bed, I found out that I was her first."

Drogan nodded understandingly. "That can be a powerful influence on a lass…or on a lad, for that matter."

"It can be," Camden agreed with a slight smile, the gleam in his eye making the dwarf wonder who had been his first and what the circumstances had been. Then the gleam was gone and the boy was serious again. "It was for her, anyway."

"What happened?"

"Nothing dramatic," Camden replied. "She didn't get pregnant, thank the gods, but she was hurt and embarrassed when she realized that I didn't feel the way did. Father had the majordomo offer to reassign her to the staff at the summer palace, but she wanted to leave altogether. She works for a Duke in Lyrabar now, and he's a good man. Father made sure that she was placed with someone who wouldn't take advantage of her."

That sounded like the Alexyr that Drogan remembered. "You feel as though you took advantage of her, then?"

"I did," Cam admitted candidly. "I didn't think of it like that at the time, but I was a prince, and she was a servant of my family."

Drogan eyed the young man with a quirked eyebrow. "And the wives of the men who were fealty sworn to your father?"

Camden shrugged self-consciously. "None of them were looking to marry me, that's for certain. Most of them were just bored. Their husbands were either immersed in politics or off chasing girls young enough to be their daughters." He snorted and shook his head, his disgust evident. "It's perfectly allowable for _them_ to do that, but let their wives do the same and watch them get outraged."

Drogan nodded. He was well acquainted with the double standard that permitted – even expected – men to conduct affairs while requiring their wives to remain faithful. He had received no complaints from Hilltop since Camden had arrived, so evidently the lad had learned to confine his attentions to unattached females.

_Either that, or he's learned how not to get caught,_ Drogan thought, deciding that it mattered little to him either way. He'd had his share of romances in his younger days, including one episode that had required him to hide in his lover's closet until her husband fell asleep.

"Would you like to go home to see your new nephew?" he asked. "I can give you a couple of weeks' leave." Impiltur was far enough away that this would have been impractical by normal means of transportation, but Drogan had provided each of his students' families with scrying stones that allowed him to teleport them home and back again, although he limited these trips to once a year, unless emergencies arose.

Camden shook his head. "Nah. I'll be spending time at home soon enough." He was close – very close – to his final trial, and Drogan had never seen a student show less enthusiasm at the prospect.

"That was one of the other things I wanted to talk to you about," he told him. "I've spoken to your father, and he and your mother have agreed to my request that you be allowed to stay on here after you have completed your final trial, if you want to, of course."

"I could stay?" Hope and relief flared in the boy's eyes, quickly followed by puzzlement. "As a student?"

"As my assistant," Drogan clarified. "I'm starting to feel my age, and I could use someone to help out around here."

"What would I be doing?"

"Whatever I tell you to do, same as now," Drogan told him with a grin, "but you'll get paid for it. Helping with weapons training, overseeing the students during their trials, maybe a bit of classroom teaching after a while. Interested?"

"Are you kidding?" The smile that lit Cam's face drove away all traces of earlier shadows. "I'd love to! And Mother really agreed?"

"She did," the dwarf assured him. "Apparently, she thinks I've done a marvelous job of reforming you." At this he sent Camden a droll glance. "So I would appreciate it if you would help me maintain that fiction."

"Yes, sir!" The boy wore the expression of a man pardoned from a death sentence and given a fortune in gold.

_Time to see how he takes to the reality of it._ "Good. We can finalize the details a little later, but for now – " Drogan put the letters away into his desk and sat back, looking Camden in the eye. "One of your chief duties as my assistant will be maintaining order among the students, which brings me to the last thing I needed to speak to you about."

Camden winced, but made no attempt to avoid Drogan's eyes. "Mischa." It was a statement, not a question.

"Aye," Drogan said with a nod. "As the senior student, I need you to set an example for the newer ones and not let yourself be drawn into their little squabbles. I've come to expect such behavior from Xanos, but I know that you are capable of better."

"Yes, sir, and I'm sorry. I'll do my best." No evasions, no excuses. It had been the same on each of the handful of times that Cam had committed an infraction serious enough to require discipline from Drogan. The lad always took responsibility for his actions and accepted his punishment gracefully, and Drogan had never been required to reprimand him for the same offence twice.

Camden hesitated, then added, "But sir, I think that Xanos had a point this morning, even though he was wrong in the way he addressed it."

"Oh?" Drogan waited, almost certain of where Camden was going.

"Yes, sir. In Mischa's trial yesterday, she shouldn't have refused to save that child just because it was a goblin. Xanos told her that; we all did, but she wouldn't listen."

Drogan chuckled silently, but kept his face impassive. "So, you think that she should have saved the child?"

Camden blinked. "Well, yeah…that was what she was _supposed_ to do," he looked questioningly at Drogan, "wasn't it?"

"Can you think of a reason why she shouldn't have saved it?"

Cam frowned thoughtfully. "I guess that it could have been bait…to lure someone into an ambush?" he said finally.

Drogan nodded in satisfaction. "Exactly. Mischa saw only a goblin; the rest of you saw only a child, but the reality was a combination of the two. The _only_ thing that Mischa was supposed to do – and the chief thing that I am trying to teach you all – is to _think_: to look at all the aspects of a situation before acting."

"Guess we all failed that trial, then," Cam observed ruefully, then looked at Drogan curiously. "So, was there an ambush?"

Drogan snorted. "You think I'm going to tell you that yet?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye. "I may want to use it on your final trial!"

Camden laughed. "Fair enough," he agreed affably. "Can I tell the others what you told me, though?"

"I'll tell them myself," Drogan replied, "when we go over yesterday's trials in class, which starts in –" he glanced up, consulting the chronometer on the wall, "fifteen minutes, so you'd best go get ready."

When Camden was gone, Drogan leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He had no doubt that Camden would take his duties seriously, and the help would be welcome, but he knew that it was a temporary measure, at best. Within a couple of years, the duties would become routine, and Cam would again be craving a challenge. He hoped that Alexyr could make Sarai see reason soon, before the lad's restless energy led him on a course that he would regret.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note:_

_Thanks to those of you who have provided feedback thus far...always helpful! Unfortunately, I can't seem to find a way to keep track of what reviews I've responded to...anybody know if there is a way to track such things?_

* * *

Camden lunged forward, the dagger in his left hand held up in a defensive position, while the one in his right was kept low, ready to sweep in from the side in a disemboweling motion. His opponent, however, spun aside at the last possible instant, leaving him dangerously overextended and off balance. Unable to halt his forward momentum, he stumbled and fell face down onto the dirt floor of the training arena, tensing himself against the finishing blow.

A moment passed, however, then another, and no blow fell. Sighing, he rolled onto his back to find Mischa standing over him with her greatsword held ready.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Waiting for you to get up so that we can continue," the girl replied matter of factly.

"There should be no continuing, Mischa," Cam replied pointedly, trying to conceal his irritation. "I was down. You should have finished me."

"It's not honorable to kill a helpless opponent," she asserted in a pompous tone that only served to irritate him further.

"You realize that your opponent is not likely to feel any such honorable impulses, don't you?" he asked acidly. "They'll kill you at the first opportunity."

"I expect no honor from servants of evil," she countered haughtily, "but for a paladin, death is preferable to dishonor."

From the corner of his eye, Cam could see Dorna rolling her eyes and Xanos grinning in open amusement. Irritation flared suddenly into anger. "Fine." Twisting suddenly, he swung his legs around, knocking her feet from under her. As she hit the ground heavily, he reversed his grip on the dagger in his right hand, driving the top of the hilt against the center of her chest hard enough to bruise, even through the chainmail that she wore. "You're dead!"

Rolling to his feet, he stalked toward where Drogan stood watching, but stopped as the dwarf gave him a faint smile and the slightest shake of his head. The message was clear.

_Handle it._

Camden closed his eyes, drew a deep breath and turned back around as Mischa sat up, glaring angrily at him.

"I should have known better than to expect honor from someone learning the ways of thievery," she announced scornfully, standing and rubbing the spot where he had struck her.

"And what d'ye mean by that?" Dorna exclaimed indignantly, starting forward with fire in her eyes, but Camden forestalled her with an upraised hand.

"I learn the ways of thieves so that I can counter them more effectively," he replied, keeping his voice even, acutely aware of Drogan's scrutiny, "though even thieves can have honor," he added, remembering the guild in Lyrabar, and the fierce loyalty of its members to their leader, Torchiak. "There is a difference, though, between honor and foolhardiness," he continued, "and when someone is trying to kill you, the last thing that you want to do is give them any advantage."

"I told you –" Mischa began, her jaw set stubbornly, but Camden cut her off.

"I know: death before dishonor," he said with determined patience, "and that is your choice. The people who fight alongside you might not feel the same way, though. How would you feel if one of them died because of a stupid act like the one you just did?"

"Any paladin would feel the same way," she insisted. "My father told me –"

"Bah!" Xanos broke in with a contemptuous sneer. "Your father filled your head with fairy tales to keep you amused, and when you were fool enough to believe them, he packed you off to Drogan because he lacked the courage to admit the truth to you!"

"Xanos –" Camden began warningly, but Mischa was already advancing on the half-orc with her hands clenched so tightly about the hilt of her sword that her knuckles were white. "My father is neither a liar nor a coward!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Retract your words immediately, or I'll –"

"You'll what?" Xanos inquired mockingly, holding his empty hands open in front of him. "Attack an unarmed opponent? What would your father say about such a dishonorable action, eh?"

"Enough!" Camden stepped in between the two, glancing around for Drogan. Things definitely seemed to be escalating beyond his level of authority. The dwarf was no longer where he had been standing, however; a quick search found him at the open door of the training arena, deep in conversation with a woman Cam had never seen before, his face set in a grave expression. _All right, then…guess I keep handling it._ "I don't know or care what a paladin would do," he told Mischa, "but at this school, we do NOT draw weapons on each other." He turned to glare up at Xanos. "And we don't provoke each other, either. Any more from either of you, and you'll spend the evening cleaning armor and polishing weapons." He tried to look stern, but it was not an expression that he was accustomed to wearing.

Xanos regarded him with narrowed eyes, then snorted. "You may manage to curry favor with Drogan with such a speech, but Xanos is not impressed. Xanos will desist, but only because he does not wish to waste his time arguing with such a foolish little girl."

Very deliberately turning his back, the half orc began gathering up the weapons and armor, placing them on the racks that lined the walls of the arena. Mischa stared at him for a long moment, hands still curled tightly around the hilt of her greatsword. "My father is not a liar," she murmured, turning to Camden, the uncertainty in her eyes making the statement into a question.

"No, he's not," Camden assured her, wondering at the sudden change in her demeanor. She was only seventeen, a full year younger than Cam had been when he had started at the school, and she looked even younger now. He'd never met her father, but he knew that Drogan had traveled with him, and figured that it was probably safe to make some assumptions about the man's character based on that fact. "You should know by now that Xanos likes to say things like that just to get you mad." From the corner of his eye, he saw Drogan gesture him over. "Go ahead and put your sword and armor away; looks like practice is over."

She studied him with an odd expression and seemed ready to speak, but then nodded wordlessly and began to remove her armor. Leaving her, Cam approached Drogan and the newcomer, eyeing her appraisingly. An elf, without doubt, she had the petite build and delicate features of a fullblood, dressed in clothes of muted greens and greys that would make her nearly invisible in a forest. A ranger, then, he decided, noting the bow secured across her back.

_And a damned pretty one, too, _he noted admiringly as he drew closer. The utilitarian cut of her garb did not hide the appealing curve of breast and hip, and thick, dark hair framed the fair skin of her face like the midnight sky surrounding the moon. Brilliant green eyes returned his scrutiny, and he instinctively gave her his most charming smile. Her returning smile was friendly, but undeniably coolly amused, and he knew the answer to his unspoken question even before she turned back to Drogan.

_Ouch. _He'd been rejected often enough to recognize it, but seldom enough that there was little sting beyond a touch of wry amusement at himself. _After all, she's probably two hundred years old – at least. I must seem like a child to her. Ah, well. _He wasn't exactly short of willing bedmates, after all, so why pout over one who wasn't interested?

Switching to a businesslike expression, he came to a stop beside Drogan. "Yes, sir?"

The dwarf glanced at him, his expression still serious and seeming preoccupied, as well. "Ah, Camden! You've ended weapons practice, then? Good, good." He nodded, his heavy brow creased in thought. "Get everyone cleaned up and tell them that you're all having dinner in Hilltop tonight…no exceptions." This meant Mischa, who had been to the Bubbling Cauldron exactly once, and left in a huff when a drunk began flirting with her. "I'm giving Nani the night off, as well, so she'll be going with you. Plan to spend the night there; I'll settle up with Jorgen tomorrow."

"Sir?" It was not the first time that Drogan had given Nani the night off and had the students take their evening meal in Hilltop's inn, but it was the first time that the housekeeper would be going with them and the first time that they had been told to stay overnight. Not that Camden would have minded, ordinarily, but – "Is something wrong?"

"No questions now, Cam." Drogan's tone was gentle but firm. "I'm depending on you to keep the others in line. I'll explain everything in the morning."

"Yes, sir." There seemed to be no point in protesting, nor did it look as though he was going to be introduced to the alluring ranger, so Camden bowed and headed back to the school, leaving the pair to whatever conversation they had been having, trying to ignore the niggling worry that had begun at the back of his mind. Surely whatever the problem was, it was nothing that a mage as skilled as Drogan couldn't handle easily.

As anticipated, Mischa protested vehemently at the requirement to spend the night in Hilltop, and only Cam's assurance that she would be needed to look after Nani prevented an outright refusal to enter the "den of sin".

There was no sign of Drogan or his visitor as the group set out on the short trek to Hilltop. There was much speculation between Xanos and Dorna as to the reason they were being sent away from the school, with the pair finally reaching the conclusion that it must have something to do with preparation for Camden's final trial.

"Who was the woman Drogan was talkin' to, Cam?" Dorna asked curiously. "I've never seen her before."

Xanos snorted. "No doubt Master Drogan intends to use her to try to distract Camden during his trial," he said, giving Cam a knowing leer. "And quite a delectable distraction she would provide, too, eh, Cam?"

"Perhaps," Camden replied with a crooked grin. It _was_ a nice idea, after all, though highly unlikely in light of his observations this afternoon. Still, he didn't feel it necessary to mention that he had already been rejected by the unnamed beauty before he even got the chance to proposition her. One _did_ have a reputation to maintain, after all…

Mischa gave Xanos a scornful glance. "Do you really think that Master Drogan would allow her to be seen if he planned to use her as a distraction in a trial?"

The half-orc shrugged, unconcerned. "Anticipation can create a distraction of its own," he observed sagely.

Camden glanced at Nani, whose smile of amusement made it clear that she had heard such speculations and wonderings from students many times before as the time for final trials drew near. The faintest crease on her brow, however, drew Cam to her side.

"Do you think there's trouble, Nani?" he asked her quietly. "Is that why Master Drogan sent us away?"

"No," the elderly housekeeper replied. "It's just that the lass had the look of a Harper about her. He's supposed to be retired from them, but they always seem to be coming around, asking him to do 'just one more thing'. There'll be likely others coming tonight to meet with him, and they're almost fanatical about not wanting prying ears around."

"Harpers, eh?" Drogan had mentioned the group seldom, but still often enough to arouse Cam's curiosity, and the lad knew that his father had met Drogan when the Harpers had helped to uncover a plot to assassinate the royal family. The temptation was strong to sneak back and see if he could overhear the conversations at the meeting, but his time this evening was already spoken for, and he knew that he'd be a long time hearing the end of it if he didn't show up.

Waves and calls of greeting followed the group as they moved through the streets of Hilltop. Students from Drogan's school were a common sight in the town and, thanks to the dwarf's strict rules of conduct, had maintained a good relationship with the townspeople.

He opened the door to the Cauldron, gesturing for the others to enter ahead of him, but Mischa hung back.

"I wanted to tell you that I appreciated your show of maturity at practice today," she told him, her tone self-consciously formal. "I am grateful that you kept me from behaving dishonorably toward Xanos."

"I've wanted to thrash him once or twice, myself," Camden replied candidly.

"Yes, but better behavior is expected of those who would be paladins," she said earnestly, apparently oblivious to the near insult in her words. "And I wanted to thank you for defending my father from that half-orc's foul slander."

Defending? Camden cast about in his mind, but could remember doing nothing more than agreeing with Mischa that her father was not a liar. Still, he saw nothing to be gained in pointing that that out, so he simply shrugged and said, "I just figured that if he had been a companion of Master Drogan that he'd be neither a coward nor a liar."

"And he's not!" Mischa exclaimed, giving him the most genuine smile he'd received since she arrived. "It's just that when he's away so much on his duties for Helm, it's hard for him to-"

"There you are!" Soft arms slid around him from behind, encircling his chest while warm lips nuzzled the back of his neck. "I missed you!"

"I was just here the day before yesterday, Bekka," Cam replied, intercepting her hands as they began to slide lower, while Mischa's eyes widened in shock.

"But you were Kathandra's then," Bekka purred into his ear. "Tonight, you're mine!" Peering over his shoulder, she sent Mischa a wicked smile. "You don't mind, do you dear?"

"Not at all," the girl replied stiffly, her face flaming.

Cam tried to send Mischa a 'what can you do?' grin and shrug, but she refused to meet his eyes as she strode over to the table where Nani was seated, her lips set in a thin line of disapproval.

As Bekka drew him toward the stairs, Katha gave him a wink and a saucy smile from across the room as she distributed fresh mugs of ale to a table of off-duty town guards. The two sisters weren't - precisely – prostitutes, but they, along with the Cauldron's cook, Mara, were well known to the unattached males in and around Hilltop (and more than a few of the attached ones, if the truth were to be known). Within days of Camden's first visit to Hilltop, the three had established a timesharing agreement regarding him with a speed and equanimity that left his head spinning.

Initially, he had been uncertain whether to be flattered that all three women were interested in him or insulted that they apparently didn't consider him worth fighting over, but he soon decided to simply enjoy his unexpected good fortune, particularly as it seemed to keep the ladies' other admirers from becoming too resentful _and_ gave him an easy way to avoid the attentions of girls with more permanent arrangements in mind.

It was, he reflected some time later as he slipped from Bekka's bed and began pulling on his clothes, as ideal an arrangement as he could have hoped for. _No strings attached and no one gets hurt_, he thought, recalling his earlier words to Drogan.

"Leaving so soon?" Bekka's voice, light and teasing as her fingers caressed his bare back. "I thought you were here all night?"

"I am," he replied with a smile, reaching back to gentlystroke her blonde hair, "but you pulled me up here before I had a chance to get dinner. Wouldn't do for me to faint from hunger in the middle of things, would it?"

"No, that wouldn't do at all," she agreed, stretching lazily beneath the sheets. "In fact, why don't you be a dear and bring me dinner in bed when you come back-" She broke off, frowning, as the sound of men's raised voices became audible from downstairs, joined seconds later by breaking glass and the clatter of tables being overturned. "Gods, not another fight!" she groaned. "Jorgen said that he's going to stop serving the Guard if they can't hold their drink any better than they do."

"Soldiers drink," Camden replied with a shrug, pulling on his boots and standing to fasten the buttons on his trousers. "Bored soldiers drink and fight. Not their fault they're stuck out here where nothing ever happens."

No sooner had he spoken than a woman's scream, shrill with fear, cut through the shouts and clatter, and the sounds of combat intensified, underscored by high-pitched, alien sounding voices chattering in a language that Camden could not understand. He exchanged a quick, wide-eyed glance with Bekka, then hurriedly threw his leather jerkin over his head and sprinted to the door, drawing a dagger from the hidden sheath in his right boot. "Stay here," he ordered her, "and bolt the door behind me."

He descended the stairs into chaos. The tavern floor was covered with broken and overturned furniture, and spilled ale mixed freely with spilled blood as farmer, tradesman and soldier alike battled…kobolds?

Yes, his memory confirmed. The small, reptilian-looking bipeds could be nothing else, though he had never seen them outside of illustrations in bestiaries before now. Better than a score of them had invaded the tavern, armed with shortswords and daggers; more than half now lay dead or dying. Xanos' voice rose above the din in a steady, confident chant, and a series of glowing missiles flew across the room, dropping another attacker in its tracks.

Camden glanced around, seeking the rest of his classmates. Dorna had taken refuge behind an overturned table, and was hurling bottles and heavy stoneware mugs with devastating accuracy. Nani and Mischa had been backed into a corner by three of the creatures. The girl had pulled a leg from one of the tables and stood protectively in front of Nani, wielding the length of wood like a cudgel, but the kobolds nimbly avoided her blows, their darting blades coming ever closer to her legs as they grew bolder.

Leaping across the room, Cam drove his dagger into the back of the nearest of the three. As the creature collapsed with a shriek, he pulled the blade free and slashed the throat of the one next to it, receiving a nasty cut on the arm from its dagger in the process. The third backed up, chittering fearfully, turned and fled.

"You two all right?" he asked, glancing around. All the kobolds appeared to have either been killed or put to flight, but he could see human forms among the fallen, as well.

Mischa nodded, her face pale as she stared at the crumpled, bloody bodies at her feet. "You're not supposed to bring weapons into town," she blurted, her eyes going to the dagger in Cam's hand. "Master Drogan said –"

"Oh, snap out of it, lass!" Nani exclaimed, giving her an impatient shake. "We'd be in much worse shape if he hadn't had it handy, so I doubt that Drogan will be overly disturbed."

Mischa blinked, shaking her head slowly, as though trying to emerge from a deep and unpleasant dream. "You're right…I'm sorry, Cam. It's just…I've never seen…" Her eyes fell on a young farmer who lay on his back, his throat slashed and his eyes staring sightlessly toward the ceiling. "Camden, what happened? Why did those things attack?"

"Good question," Camden murmured, his eyes finding a familiar uniformed figure. "Corporal Drey," he called out. "Any idea why they attacked? And did they hit anywhere else in town?"

"I – I don't know," the officer stammered. His face was paler than Mischa's as he surveyed the aftermath of the fight, and Camden was reminded that there were often reasons why soldiers were assigned to locations where nothing was likely to happen.

If he wanted more information, Camden realized, he would have to obtain it by other means. "Dorna!" The dwarf appeared in front of him, looking none the worse for wear, and he handed her a shortsword taken from one of the dead kobolds. "Go out and creep the rest of the village. See if the kobolds attacked elsewhere and if any attacks are still going on. Don't fight unless you have to, and report back here with what you find, understood?"

"Aye," Dorna replied with a curt nod, accepting the sword and ducking out the front door.

"Should Xanos go to protect her?" the half orc inquired as he strode across the tavern, seemingly unmindful of the bodies that he stepped over.

"Stealth isn't exactly your strong point, Xanos," Cam replied. "Besides, we'll need you here if they come back."

Xanos puffed up visibly at this. "Such puny creatures were scarcely worthy of Xanos' skill," he proclaimed, "but if any are foolish enough to return, Xanos will deal with them!"

"For now, we've wounded to tend to," Nani said briskly, "and that includes you, Cam."

"There are others hurt worse," he said dismissively, sliding his wounded arm away from her grasp. "Tend to them first." His eyes searched among the bodies on the floor, wincing at each familiar face and dreading the sight of blonde curls matted with blood.

"Cam!" He barely had time to turn before Katha hurled herself into his arms from the direction of the kitchen. "What were those things? Are they gone?"

"I think so," he told her, relieved that she had escaped injury, "but you'd best go upstairs with Bekka and stay until we're sure."

As Kathandra ascended the stairs, Mara emerged from the kitchen, the bloody cleaver in her hand mute testimony that the battle had not been limited to the common room. "Anybody wounded in there?" Cam asked her.

The cook shook her head. She was a few years older than the sisters, with dark hair and brown eyes that were currently flashing with anger. "Three of the little bastards came into the kitchen and seemed to think that Katha and I would be easy pickings." She gave him a cold smile. "They found out otherwise."

Camden returned the smile. "Too bad for them."

She nodded, then her eyes fell on his arm, and she gave an exasperated sigh. "I thought that Drogan was teaching you _not_ to get hit," she said, stepping forward and pulling a clean rag from a shelf behind the bar. "Let's get that cleaned up."

Cam was about to repeat his earlier request to tend to the more seriously wounded first when he heard his name being called – shouted – from outside the tavern.

The door flew open and Dorna burst in, flushed and out of breath from running.

"What is it?" Cam asked, instantly alert. "Are they attacking somewhere else in town?"

"No," Dorna panted. "Looks like they're done here, but I tracked them out of town." Her wide eyes held Cam's. "It looks like a large group is headed right for the school."

Beside him, he heard Nani's gasp, Xanos' surprised oath, and then he was running, wounded arm forgotten, out the door and down the road to the school as flames leaped to life in the night ahead of him.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Thanks to Dawncat & JK for reviewing…I plan to keep blending original elements in with the game storyline – more fun to write that way. _

"You're sure that he's going to be all right?" Camden asked for at least the fourth time, hovering anxiously over the bed.

"Yes, Camden," Ayala Windspear replied patiently as she applied an aromatic poultice to Drogan's chest, then drew the sheet over the dwarf's head to ensure that he would breathe the fumes produced by the mixture. Camden winced and glanced away; the appearance was too much like that of a funeral shroud. The expressions on the faces of the other students made it clear that they too had noticed the resemblance. "The herbs that you found are precisely what is needed to stop the action of the poison." She shook her head with a wry smile. "The old packrat is fortunate that he kept such a well stocked apothecarium."

"But if it's a cure, then why is he still unconscious?" Mischa blurted anxiously, wringing her hands.

"The herbs only stopped the poison from doing further damage," Ayala answered. "Reversing what has already been done is a slower process, and a more delicate one, as well." Striding to the cabinet in which Drogan had stored his herb collection, she surveyed the contents again and nodded in satisfaction. "All that I will need is here, but the restoratives must be administered in precise doses, at carefully measured intervals. The poison that the kobolds used is intended to strain the heart to the breaking point, and the process of reversal must be handled delicately." Pulling two jars from the cabinet, she handed them to Nani. "Bring a heaping tablespoon of each of these to a boil in two cups of water – separately, mind you; they cannot be mixed. Remove them from the heat and allow them to steep for 30 minutes, then bring them here."

Nani nodded, accepting the two jars and vanishing in the direction of the kitchen as Ayala turned to the students. "The rest of you need to spread out and search the school to see what has been taken."

"Nothin' was taken in Hilltop," Dorna observed. "The little vermin just attacked everyone."

"The attack on Hilltop was a diversion, nothing more," Ayala stated flatly. "I tracked these kobolds for two days, moving in a straight line toward this place. I lost them at dawn today; I believe that they became aware of my pursuit and used magic to conceal their presence."

"Kobolds are too stupid to learn magic," Xanos sneered.

"Most do lack the mental focus, it is true," the ranger admitted, "and spells to provide so many with concealment should be beyond even their shamen. Nor do they generally move over great distances with such purpose, or use such sophisticated poisons."

"So you think that someone else was behind their actions?" Camden asked.

"It is almost certain," Ayala agreed. "Drogan had been entrusted with a number of relics and other items of power, due to both the remote location of this school and his skill at magical wards. If someone were to have discovered the location of these items…"

"Enemies of the Harpers?" Cam suggested.

"It is possible," the elf agreed, seeming neither surprised nor irritated by the question, "but while there are many who would covet them, there are far fewer with the ability to obtain them. Have you any idea where such items would have been secured?"

"The basement," Cam replied at once, the others echoing him. "There are wards active there day and night if Master Drogan isn't inside."

"You'd best check there, then," Ayala advised him. "The rest of you check the library, his study… anything that has been taken can help us identify who was behind the attack."

The group scattered, and Camden sprinted down the stairs, his step faltering as he entered the common room where the fight had been raging when he had arrived. Ayala and Drogan had slain better than a dozen of the kobolds; their bodies littered the floor…along with the one that had darted in behind the dwarf and buried a faintly glowing dagger low in his back. Camden had slain that one himself as Drogan had crumpled to the floor, his weathered face suddenly ashen.

_Don't think about it,_ he told himself firmly. _He's going to be fine. Ayala's taking care of him._ His initial suspicions about the elf's sudden arrival so close to the time of the attack had quickly vanished. The ranger was obviously highly skilled in herblore, and had moved quickly to stabilize Drogan. Then, too, the dwarf's demeanor while speaking with her earlier in the day had shown no hint of concern or wariness, and Camden knew that his master was not one to be easily deceived.

The door to the basement lab was open, and more kobold bodies littered the threshold. For a moment, Camden entertained the hope that Drogan's wards had held, but as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw a glittering powder scattered over the stone floor and obviously ransacked shelves and cabinets. He stepped forward cautiously, alert for the tingle of magic that would warn of an active ward, but the air remained still. Amidst the wreckage, his eye went first to a heavy steel cabinet that sat behind Drogan's desk. Camden had never seen the cabinet open, but now the heavy door hung ajar, the shelves bare. A quick glance around the room told him that the rest of the devastation had been damage wrought for its own sake; he knew instinctively that the contents of the cabinet had been the reason the lab had been broken into.

Grabbing a crucible from where it had fallen to the floor, he scooped a sample of the glittering powder into it and headed back upstairs.

"The library hasn't been touched," Dorna announced as she and Mischa met Cam at the door to Drogan's room. "Whatever they were lookin' for, it wasn't books."

"They made a great mess in the study, but Xanos cannot find anything missing," the half-orc added as he strode in.

"The Grinder?" Cam asked quickly. "Was it damaged?" The Grinder was a magical device that Drogan had used to create the focus crystals that allowed the students to teleport instantly back to the school from nearby locations. The crystals served as a safeguard when the students were out undergoing their trials, allowing them to escape any situation that became too dangerous. He had a gut feeling that they would have need of the crystals for reasons having nothing to do with training, and if the Grinder was broken, he had no idea how to go about fixing it.

Xanos shook his head. "They scattered the gems, but the Grinder was too heavy for them to even move." He sneered at Mischa. "You will still have the ability to escape when you botch your trials."

"Enough!" Camden intervened before Mischa could respond. The half-orc had made liberal use of the crystals himself, but there was nothing to be gained in pointing that out. "We don't have time for petty insults. They managed to bring down the wards protecting the lab, and it looks like they took something…but I don't know what." He offered the crucible to Ayala. "This stuff was scattered on the floor; any idea what it is?"

The ranger accepted the crucible, studying its contents thoughtfully. "I have heard of such substances, though they are very rare. It has the ability to dispel powerful spells, and is undoubtedly what allowed the kobolds to bypass the wards. A great deal of magical power was required to create it, but it can be used by one with no magical ability at all. No kobold could make it, nor would they be in possession of it unless it had been given to them to use. They were sent here by another, and as for what they were sent to retrieve," her expression grew grave. "There were four artifacts of great power that had been assembled by the Harpers over the years. Anything else that might have been taken is of small concern compared to these."

"There is a steel cabinet in the lab that Master Drogan always kept locked," Camden told her. "It's open now…and empty."

The elf sighed. "That is, in all likelihood, where the artifacts were kept."

"What sort of artifacts were they," Xanos asked, keen interest alight in his eyes, "and what powers do they possess?"

"All that you need to know of their power is that you should not attempt to use any of them," Ayala replied, giving the half-orc a stern glance. "As to what they were, there was the mummified hand of a powerful lich, the tooth of an ancient dragon, a statue of a tower and a mask."

"Why would the Harpers even keep such vile things?" Mischa demanded, her face twisted in revulsion. "The hand of a lich…a dragon's tooth? Why were they not destroyed to prevent their evil from ever being used?"

"Even items crafted with evil intent may be used to preserve the Balance," Ayala replied. "It was deemed prudent to preserve the artifacts against future need, but they cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands."

"We must send for help at once, then," the girl declared. "My father and others of his order will come from Athkatla as soon as they hear of the situation."

Camden saw Xanos roll his eyes, but Ayala spoke before the half-orc could interject another inflammatory remark. "There is no time to send for assistance, either from the Harpers or – other sources." Something in the elf's expression told Cam that paladins would be among the last groups that she would choose to request aid from. "The kobolds will try to return the artifacts to their master; the trail is fresh, and the best chance of success lies in pursuing them now." She glanced at the still form on the bed. "I cannot leave Drogan at this point. The process required to reverse the effects of the poison is an exacting one. Could the guards in Hilltop be of any assistance?"

Cam hesitated, remembering the ashen face of Corporal Drey, then shook his head regretfully. "I don't think so. They're good enough at keeping order in a small, quiet town, but this is beyond anything they have trained for."

"Then the task falls to you…if you will accept it," the ranger said bluntly, looking directly at Camden. "I cannot order you to do this; I can only stress the importance of recovering these items, and remind you that Drogan put his life at risk to protect them."

"Don't!" Camden snapped irritably. He hated being manipulated, particularly when he had already made up his mind. "I'll do it." He glanced at Xanos. "You up for a bit of excitement?"

"Such puny creatures hardly qualify as excitement," Xanos scoffed, "but perhaps their master will prove a worthy opponent." He eyed Ayala. "There will, of course, be a reward from the Harpers for our services?"

Camden suppressed a groan, but Ayala merely nodded. "I am certain that some form of recompense will be forthcoming."

"Good." Xanos nodded in satisfaction, then grinned at Cam. "This fool would have never have thought to ask, but no true adventurer simply gives his services away. Let this be a lesson to you, Camden!"

"I bow to your superior negotiating skills, Xanos," Cam replied dutifully, sending a surreptitious wink to Dorna and Mischa, the latter of whom seemed to be on the verge of apoplexy.

"Soon all will know of the greatness of Xanos," the half-orc proclaimed grandly, completely oblivious to the irony in Cam's words. "This is merely the first step to my destiny. I will go to make myself ready to depart."

He had no sooner left the room than the explosion came. "That greedy, unscrupulous creature!" Mischa exclaimed. "Master Drogan is at death's door and all he can think of is profit?"

"That's just the way he is," Camden replied with an unconcerned shrug. "but he's a good spellcaster and decent in a fight. He can have my share of the reward, by the way," he added to Ayala.

"I suspected that such would be the case," the elf replied with a slight smile that made Cam wonder just how much Drogan had told her of his students and their backgrounds.

"And what of us?" Dorna demanded, gesturing to herself and Mischa. "Or d'ye think that we females are too fragile for such a task?"

"No," Cam sighed. He'd known this would be coming. "But there's still a chance that they could come back, and with Ayala focused on healing Master Drogan, it'll be up to you two to hold them off. Every point of entry should be trapped; you're the best one to do that, Dorna, and Mischa's damn good with a sword."

"Your reasoning is sound, Camden," Ayala said approvingly, effectively cutting off future protests. "I am going to go check on the herbal infusions, and I recommend that you make ready to leave as soon as possible."

"I'll get started on the traps," Dorna announced, then gave Cam a sly wink. "Ye might want t' let Xanos come in first when ye return."

Camden chuckled as he stepped into Drogan's study, pausing to study the destruction. It was as Xanos had said: shelves had been swept bare and boxes overturned, but the heavy Grinder sat intact upon its bench. Stooping, he began to gather up the semiprecious stones that he would need. _Quartz…amethyst…_

"What are you doing?"

He raised his head, realizing that Mischa had followed him into the study. "Need to make a few focus crystals to take with us. A quick getaway may come in handy."

She frowned. "Master Drogan has forbidden us to use the Grinder," she stated flatly.

Cam fought back irritation. "He did that to keep students from making crystals for their own use, Mischa. Given the situation, I don't think he would object."

"You don't even know how to use it," she persisted. "What if you damage it?"

"I've watched Master Drogan do it dozens of times," he replied with forced patience. "It's not that difficult. Why don't you see if Dorna needs any help setting her traps?"

"I've no training in the skills of thieves," she replied in a disdainful tone that set his teeth on edge. "The whole idea of you and Xanos chasing down these creatures is ludicrous, and I'm certain that Drogan would never agree to it. We're students, not trained adventurers; you're a merchant's son, not a warrior or hero. There's evil at work here, and we should be summoning the holy orders to deal with it instead of letting that Ayala woman order us around like –"

Letting the gems fall from his fingers, he stood and turned to face her. He knew that it was the shocks of the day that had made her retreat even further behind her shield of stubborn self-righteousness, but that didn't make it any less annoying and frustrating. There was no point in trying to explain Ayala's reasoning to her again; it would simply lead to more argument, and right now Cam was interested only in being left in peace…which meant offending her enough to make her leave. Acting on a sudden, perverse impulse, he reached out and grasped her by the shoulders, pulling her to him and kissing her.

In retrospect, he was never quite certain what had led him to choose that particular method, beyond the intention of making her as outraged as possible in the shortest period of time. He was completely unprepared for her reaction…or for his own.

When his lips met hers, she stiffened, bringing her hands up to his chest, and Camden expected her to push him away, but a moment later, she was leaning into him, hands clinging to his tunic as she returned the kiss, awkwardly but with unmistakable desire.

_Mischa?_ Camden's initial astonishment was quickly swept away by an answering wave of desire as intense as it was unexpected. He responded instinctively, moving one arm to her waist to draw her against him and sliding a hand into the softness of her hair while he deepened the kiss, all thought of focus crystals, kobolds and stolen artifacts vanishing from his mind as he savored the soft sweetness of her lips.

At last he broke the kiss and drew back slightly, regarding her quizzically. She stared back at him, blue eyes wide with surprise, cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted, looking so damn tempting that he couldn't resist moving forward for another kiss.

Then she kneed him in the balls.

Hard.

There was just enough time for his memory to register the fact that she had begun to don her armor before Ayala had summoned them to Drogan's room; an instant later, the DeLoessian family jewels sent up a highly indignant confirmatory report: she had indeed been wearing her plate leggings.

His own legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor with a strangled groan as Mischa turned and stormed out of the room without a word. Which was, some part of his mind reminded him with sardonic amusement, exactly the result he had been aiming for.

Well…perhaps not exactly. Right now, returning to the manufacturing of the focus crystals was the furthest thing from his mind. All thoughts of desire had fled too, as his full attention was forcibly focused on the fact that his testicles had just been flattened by a steel-clad knee.

He remained curled into a tight ball for some time, waiting for the searing pain radiating from his groin to release its hold on the rest of his body, when he heard footsteps approaching.

"Well, I don't know what ye did t' piss Her Holiness off this time, but ye seem to have done a right smart job of it," Dorna announced as she entered the room. She stopped, staring curiously at the shape huddled on the floor among the scattered gemstones. "Damn, but ye _did_ piss her off, didn't ye? What'n the Nine Hells happened?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," he managed to grunt as she crouched beside him, annoyed by the complete lack of concern in her voice. Friends could be such a mixed blessing, he reflected as he managed to coax his legs into extending.

Dorna glanced down at his hands, which were still reflexively covering the injured area in a belated attempt at protection, and quickly put two and two together. "So, ye finally had to take a try at thawing the ice princess, and she racked ye for yer trouble, did she?" she exclaimed with a bark of laughter. "If ye don't mind me sayin' so, Cam, yer timin' stinks. What in the name of the gods made ye think that now was the time for romance?"

"Don't you have traps to set?" he growled, forcing himself to his hands and knees, doggedly ignoring the fresh flare of pain that the movement brought.

"I do," the dwarf replied with a heartless (to Cam's way of thinking) chuckle. "I came back upstairs to get more supplies and thought I'd see what Her Holiness was pitching a fit about. She needs to expand her vocabulary, though," she added with a sly smile. "The best name she could come up with for ye was 'barbaric cretin' before she went into her room and slammed the door."

"Thanks for the information," Cam replied through gritted teeth. "You can leave any time now." He reached up to grasp the edge of the workbench and started to pull himself upright, then remembered the gemstones that he had dropped and allowed himself to sink back to the floor.

She grinned, a wicked gleam coming into her eye. "Aye, I'll leave ye to yer recovery…though I suppose ye could always ask Mischa if she'd consider practicing Laying Hands on yer injury." Easily dodging the feeble swat that he aimed at her, she left the room cackling in amusement. Camden glared after her, then began the slow, painful process of crawling about the floor, picking up the scattered gems again.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note:_

_Dawncat - Yep, I think that could be considered a critical fumble ;-). He's still got some growing up to do...but I have hopes for him..._

* * *

By daylight, Hilltop looked almost normal. The bodies of the slain had been removed from the streets, and the few small fires that the kobolds had started had been extinguished without major damage to any of the homes or business. It was more obvious than ever that the attack on the town had been nothing more than a diversion.

The attack had left a lasting mark, however, in the strained, worried faces of the townspeople as they moved cautiously through the streets, eyes darting nervously about; in the grief-ravaged faces of those who had obviously lost loved ones in the attack; and in the keening wails of sorrow that rose from some of the tightly shuttered homes.

Camden and Xanos moved through the packed-dirt roads of the town, answering the queries called to them as succinctly as possible. As they reached the first destination on their list of stops within the town, the smithy, Xanos halted suddenly.

"Xanos wishes to speak," he announced, his brow furrowed and his expression uncharacteristically troubled…so much so that Camden decided to forego his usual teasing of the half orc for constantly referring to himself in the third person.

"What is it?"

Xanos frowned. "This town," he said at last, "when Xanos first came here, they were suspicious, as most humans are of half orcs, but because Xanos was a student of Drogan, they treated him fairly. Now," he glanced around at those who had hailed them on their way into town, "although they still do not recognize Xanos' greatness, they treat Xanos as a student of Drogan only – not as a half-orc. They are the first humans to have done so." His expression grew thunderous. "Those kobolds –" Massive fists clenched in anger.

Camden concealed his surprise; it was the first time that he had ever seen Xanos express concern for anyone save himself. "I understand, Xanos," he replied. "We'll find the scaly little bastards and make sure they never do it again."

Xanos nodded in satisfaction. "And once we have dealt with them and recovered these artifacts so important to the Harpers, Xanos' fame will spread throughout the land!" he proclaimed.

Camden suppressed a smile. For a moment, he'd wondered if the half orc had been replaced by a doppleganger, but this was Xanos, all right. "And perhaps some of the fame will rub off on your trusty sidekick, eh?" he asked facetiously.

Xanos beamed. "Exactly! Stick with Xanos, Camden, and you will bask in the glory of his greatness!"

Camden sighed. Xanos was damned intelligent, but thick as a brick when it came to recognizing irony and sarcasm. Turning, he opened the door to the smithy and stepped inside.

Fiona, the town blacksmith was unusual, not only in that she was a woman, but because she was one of the few women in town that he had never even considered trying to seduce…primarily because he wasn't at all certain that he would survive the experience.

She was a tall woman, taller than Camden, though not as tall as Xanos, and as strongly built as her profession would indicate. In fact, the only part of her that did not seem to be solid muscle were her breasts, which were of truly epic proportion (and were, as she stood on the raised platform beside her anvil, directly in Cam's line of sight). It was a source of ongoing debate in the town as to how she could see what she was working on, but no one could deny that her skills were exceptional.

Exceptional enough that Cam wondered what she was doing in an out of the way place like Hilltop. He had asked her once or twice over ale in the Bubbling Cauldron, but the most that he had been able to learn was that she had been born in Zhentil Keep, a city on the edge of the Moonsea, to the east of Impiltur. She was a friendly woman, with an odd sense of humor, and Camden generally got along well with her.

She laid her hammer down as they approached, smiling as affably as if she were totally unaware of last night's attack, although Camden caught sight of a dark red stain on the floor that could have been blood recently wiped up.

"Camden!" she exclaimed. "And Xanos as well! To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Camden hesitated. Could she really not know about the attack? "You know that Hilltop was attacked by kobolds last night?"

She gave him an odd look, and for a moment he believed that she really had been unaware of the battle that had been raging outside her door, until she said, "Of course I know about it! One of the little buggers came in here with an attitude." She nodded toward the stain on the floor. "I adjusted that quick enough with my hammer, but when I went outside, I couldn't find any others. I missed most of the attack, I suppose; couldn't hear a thing over the forge and the hammering, but I guess they weren't interested in weapons or armor."

"Either that or they were fearful of being suffocated by your ample bosom," Xanos observed with a leer.

Camden rolled his eyes. Xanos' skills with women could most kindly be described as unrefined.

Fiona, however, merely let out a guffaw. "That's a good one, Xanos," she said, then cocked an eyebrow at him slyly, "or is it merely a manifestation of your own wishful thinking?"

Cam had never seen Xanos rendered speechless before, and quickly took advantage of the half-orc's silence. "We need help, Fiona. The kobolds attacked the school last night; that was their main target, and Master Drogan was poisoned."

The smith's smile vanished and her eyes narrowed. "Drogan poisoned? Will he be all right?"

"He should be," Camden said. "An old friend of his was visiting, and she was skilled enough at herblore to stabilize him, but the kobolds stole some things from the school, and Xanos and I have to get them back." He hoped that his vague explanation would not be questioned further. "We need something besides practice weapons and armor to go after them, though. Could we get some items from you? Master Drogan will make sure that you're paid for them."

She nodded immediately. "Of course! Whatever you need. I don't have any strongly enchanted weapons in stock, I'm afraid. I work with a wizard in Waterdeep; special orders only, for the most part."

"These will be fine," Camden assured her as he quickly sorted through her inventory, selecting weapons and armor for both himself and Xanos: studded leather, a short sword and dagger for himself, leather armor, a crossbow and a longsword for the half-orc. Xanos' main strength would be his magic, but Camden wanted something for him to fall back on if he ran out of spells.

"Come back when you can and let me know how Drogan is doing," she told him after he had thanked her. "You too, Xanos; you're the only half-orc I've met that I actually like."

As the door closed behind them, Xanos let out a lusty sigh. "What a woman she is!" he exclaimed, baring his tusks in a wide grin. "A woman powerful enough to be worthy of the greatness of Xanos."

"We'll have to work on your courting skills," Camden muttered as he continued onward. Visiting the herbalist, they obtained potions and healing kits with the same assurances of payment from Drogan later. A visit to city hall found the mayor roaring drunk and the town's only cleric teetering on the edge of exhaustion after healing the worst of the wounded.

Leaving there, they entered the Bubbling Cauldron; the bodies had been removed, the broken furniture discarded or repaired and the blood mopped from the floor, although the stains would likely never fade completely from the wood. Camden had taken no more than half a dozen steps before finding himself sandwiched between two soft bodies, Kathandra claiming his lips in a passionate kiss while Bekka nuzzled the back of his neck. It was far from the worst situation that he'd been in that day, but he couldn't suppress a flinch when Katha's hand moved to his still-tender crotch for what was intended to be a seductive squeeze.

She broke the kiss, staring at him in concern. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, one of the little bastards head-butted me," he lied, trying to sound casual.

"Oh, my poor, wounded hero!" Katha exclaimed, looking downward as though expecting to see blood.

"_Our_ hero," Bekka corrected her sister, peering over Cam's shoulder with a mischievous grin. "Perhaps we should take him upstairs and kiss it to make it better?"

"So Camden is the only hero?" Xanos exclaimed indignantly. "How easily you forget that it was Xanos' spells as well as Camden's blade that drove the intruders back!"

"He's right," Camden told them. "He killed more kobolds with his spells than I did with my dagger." He eyed Katha significantly, hoping that she would catch on to his meaning.

She did, although the expression on her face made it clear that he would owe her. Turning, she stepped over to Xanos, one hand reaching up to toy with the tip of his ear. "I certainly didn't mean to leave you out, Xanos," she assured him. "Your spells were simply magnificent."

The half orc puffed up visibly. "At last you recognize Xanos for the mighty wizard that he is!" he exclaimed. "Perhaps you are not so foolish and vapid as you seem."

_Dear gods, we have **got** to work on his social skills_, Camden groaned inwardly as Katha's icy gaze shot from the oblivious Xanos to him. He was spared an unpleasant scene by Mara's appearance from the kitchen.

"How are things at the school, Cam?" she wanted to know as she lifted his arm, nodding in satisfaction at finding it healed.

"Not good. Master Drogan was poisoned. He'll be all right," he added quickly as all three women gasped in shock, "but he's very weak. The kobolds stole some things from the school, and Xanos and I are going after them. I just wanted to check and make sure things were all right here before we left."

"Wasn't that sweet of you!" Bekka purred into his ear. "Perhaps you have time to come upstairs and let us give you a proper sendoff?"

Mara made an exasperated sound. "By the gods, Bekka, the man has more important things on his mind than bedroom frolics! Back to work, both of you!"

As the pouting siblings returned to their duties, Mara shook her head with rueful amusement. "They're good hearted, but 'one-track' doesn't even begin to describe their minds. Is there anything I can get you before you leave?"

"If you have any travel rations to spare, they would be most appreciated," he told her, grateful for her levelheadedness. "Nani hadn't gotten around to making a batch for the next set of trials."

"I think we've got some travel loaves and a bit of jerky," Mara replied. "Wait here; I'll be right back."

Left alone with Xanos, who was grumbling to himself about foolish and ungrateful females, Cam savored the comparative peace. Aside from the persistent ache in his groin, he could not recall a time when he had felt less amorous, and that Kathandra and Bekka could feel such impulses, react so playfully so soon after witnessing such slaughter left him feeling vaguely disgusted.

_And how is that any different from what you tried with Mischa?_ his conscience queried him. _And with Master Drogan lying all but dead in the next room?_

_That was different,_ he told himself. _I only kissed her to make her mad enough to leave. I wasn't expecting what happened!_

_No, but you certainly didn't try to fight it when it did_, his conscience reminded him ruthlessly.

He sighed. No, he hadn't, so he had no business judging Katha and Bekka. His memory returned to those few moments in Drogan's study, his mind, seemingly of its own volition, comparing Katha's seductive demeanor with the innocent yet earnest desire of Mischa.

_Sure…earnest,_ he told himself cynically. _Right before she earnestly brought her knee up between your legs. _

But why had she kissed _him_? He knew that he had not imagined her response. If she were going to react violently, why not the second his lips had touched hers, rather than –

He frowned. How long _had_ they kissed? Between surprise and the unexpected surge of desire, he had apparently lost track of time.

He was still immersed in thought when Mara reappeared with a generously filled burlap sack. He thanked her as he secured it to his travel pack, then accepted a kiss from her – a kiss of friendship, rather than passion, and promised her that he would be careful.

"She warns _you_ to be careful," Xanos grumbled as they left, "but does she spare even a thought for Xanos?"

"She just knows that you can take care of yourself," Cam replied, pushing the puzzle of Mischa to the back of his mind. Unknown dangers lay ahead, and he would need his full wits about him if he wanted to get them both back alive, much less with the stolen artifacts.

The kobolds had left an obvious trail leading to the north, drops of blood making it clear that not all of the survivors were unscathed. Turning his attention to the trail, Camden followed it out of town, with Xanos close behind.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Many thanks to those of you have reviewed. Glad you're enjoying and hope I can continue to keep things interesting!_

* * *

Camden studied the scene before him, trying to make sense of it. The bodies of kobolds and gnolls lay scattered on the ground in the aftermath of what had obviously been a pitched battle. Though the dog-headed creatures were much larger than their opponents, it was plain that the kobolds had fought fiercely. But had it been a chance encounter, or something more?

"Search the bodies," he ordered the half orc as he began to circle the perimeter of the battle. Xanos wrinkled his nose distastefully, but complied, albeit with no small amount of grumbling as he began to rummage through the primitive clothing and pouches of the dead. Camden ignored him, his eyes fixed on the ground. He was no ranger, but with the difference in size between the combatants, he was confident of his ability to distinguish between the tracks left by any survivors. At first, all that he could see were the pawlike prints of the gnolls, a large group leading away from the dead along a trail that disappeared into the trees, but then he discerned the faint traces of smaller, clawed tracks almost obliterated by the passage of the gnolls. The kobolds had fled, then, pursued by the gnolls.

"Nothing," Xanos announced as he joined Camden, wiping his hands on his trousers. "The kobolds seem fond of shiny stones, while the gnolls have a taste for half rotted meat. A few coppers and brass ornaments, nothing more."

Cam sighed. It had been too much to hope that one or more of the artifacts might be among the dead, but there had been a chance of finding something that would shed light on who was behind the attack and the thefts. Instead, another layer of mystery had been added. "Looks like they all went in there," he told the half-orc, nodding toward the trail, which curved out of sight fifty yards ahead, overshadowed by the limbs of towering oak, elm and beech trees.

"The gnolls chasing the kobolds, no doubt," Xanos observed contemptuously. "The little vermin would run from any but the easiest opponents…such as the 'soldiers' that protect Hilltop."

"Their performance was less than stellar," Cam agreed readily. "You seem to know something about the habits of these creatures; we've not studied them much at Drogan's."

"Xanos has encountered such beasts before," the half orc rumbled, "but most of his knowledge was gleaned from books read in stealth while his master slept."

"Master?" Camden asked in surprise. "You were a slave?"

Xanos snorted. "Xanos was called an 'apprentice', which is how civilized societies disguise slavery. The wizard who accepted Xanos as an apprentice promised to teach him magic; it was not the first time that Xanos had fallen for such a lie, but it was the last. He was made to perform the most menial of tasks, never permitted to learn so much as the simplest of cantrips."

"Why did you stay?" Cam wanted to know.

"Xanos was required to submit to a geas," the half orc replied simply. "He was forced to do the wizards will, and could not leave until the geas was removed." He grinned mirthlessly. "Xanos was more clever than the wizard knew, however, and Xanos has never needed much sleep. The wizard's library was extensive, and at night, Xanos taught himself much."

"A geas can only be removed by the wizard who cast it," Camden said, "or if the wizard dies." He had never been one for books and studies at home, but the lessons that Drogan taught had been far more interesting, and each of the students was given a broad, generalized education in addition to more intensive training in their own area of focus.

Xanos' grin broadened, but remained unpleasant. "Indeed. The wizard's ambition outpaced his skill. He summoned a demon that was too powerful for him to control. Xanos listened to the screams from the wizard's study, screams that stopped very quickly. Xanos took all the gold he could find and as many books of magic as he could carry and left. He traveled alone until he heard of Drogan's school."

"No family?"

Xanos gave Cam the type of look generally reserved for half wits. "Xanos' mother abandoned him to the streets as soon as he was old enough to care for himself," he quirked an eyebrow sardonically, "at least, as well as any child can care for himself at six years of age."

"Your father?" Cam knew that the question was a mistake even before the half-orc's expression changed to one of withering scorn.

"What human woman would willingly breed with an orc?" he spat, telling Camden all that he needed to know about the circumstances of Xanos' birth.

"Ah…hells," he muttered, feeling like an utter ass. "Xanos, I'm sorry."

The half-orc shrugged. "Your apology is accepted, though there is little need for it. You had no control over the bestiality of the one who sired Xanos. Besides," he added, giving Cam a sly glance, "these are not matters that one would expect royalty to be acquainted with."

The comment took a moment to sink in. Camden blinked, a disavowal rising almost automatically to his lips, but one look at Xanos' face told him that it would be useless. "How long have you known?" he asked instead.

"Since shortly after Xanos arrived at Drogan's," Xanos replied smugly. "In preparation for his destiny, Xanos has studied other men of power. Your father is known as a wise and just man, but a canny one, as well, who inherited his throne at a young age and resisted attempts at both manipulation and assassination to build a strong kingdom. The portrait of him that Xanos has seen was done when he was quite young, and the resemblance between you is strong. But greater proof was needed."

"Let me guess," Cam said, suppressing the irritation that rose in him at the idea. He had, after all, done the same thing to Xanos and the girls. "You looked in my trunk."

The half-orc shrugged in a rare display of modesty – or something like it. "Xanos learned the skill of lockpicking in his time on the streets, but one of such greatness is ill suited for stealth, and Xanos refused to skulk about, stealing scraps. He waited until you were gone on one of Drogan's trials, then entered your quarters and read the letters in your trunk." He looked at Camden seriously. "I read only enough to confirm my suspicions, Camden…no more. Xanos is neither a snoop nor a gossip."

"Why do it at all, then?" Cam wanted to know, though, oddly enough, he believed the half-orc. Xanos could be arrogant, abrasive and overbearing, but Camden had never known him to be sneaky. The sudden and rare shift to referring to himself in the first person only seemed to underscore the sincerity of his words.

"Xanos has told no one until this moment," he replied, "nor will he. He wished to prove his trustworthiness to you, that you might pass word to your father that a powerful warrior mage stands ready to serve him. Much mutual benefit could be gained from such an association …particularly if you were to become King of Impiltur."

"Never happen," Camden replied, suppressing a shudder at the notion, not only for the burden that would drop squarely upon his shoulders, but also for the unthinkable circumstance required for such an ascension. _Father; Myles and Eavin and their sons; Jaisin; Gerran._ His entire family gone. He felt his gut twist upon itself at the mere thought of it.

Xanos watched him closely, his eyes measuring. "Perhaps a family would have been a good thing for Xanos," he murmured softly, "but perhaps it would have made him weak, prevented him from attaining his current greatness."

"You think I'm weak?" Camden challenged him, the gleam in his eyes reminding the half-orc of the multiple times that he had bested him on the training grounds.

"Far from weak," Xanos replied. "You have the seeds of greatness within you, but you also have vulnerable points that you must take care not to reveal. An enemy will not hesitate to exploit them, rather than keeping them hidden, as I have."

"I thank you for your discretion," Cam replied, knowing what the half-orc was fishing for, "and I will inform my father that you will make a valuable ally. The rest will be up to you." Myles and Eavin were unlikely to be as tolerant of Xanos' quirks as Camden, but if that were resolved, Impiltur would have a useful ally, indeed. "And now, shall we see where these tracks lead? Greatness was never achieved by words alone."

"Ah, but all of the greatest leaders were as skilled in oratory as they were in battle," Xanos replied. "The power to stir men's hearts to do your will is a great skill, indeed, but you are correct in your assessment that action, not words, will serve us best now."

They moved together into the trees, eyes alert for any sign that their quarry had left the narrow trail; after perhaps twenty minutes, the trail opened suddenly into a large clearing. In the center of the clearing stood a massive structure, its marble weathered by time and the elements, its walls covered by climbing vines that could not completely hide the exquisitely carved scenes of battle, the delicate fluting and arches that no human artisan could have managed in a lifetime of work.

"Elvish," Camden murmured. Xanos nodded in agreement.

"The style is distinctive, though no elves have lived in this region for over a thousand years." The half-orc frowned thoughtfully. "Xanos has heard rumors of this place; it is a crypt where lie those slain in some long ago conflict. It is said that it is a place of both honor and shame to the elves, though they will not say why, lest their façade of perfection be cracked." He sneered as he spoke, and Camden could not fault him. The elves that had appeared as emissaries at his father's court had behaved as though all the rest of creation lay beneath them, though Camden had seen ample evidence that they possessed mortal frailties of their own (he had, in fact, seduced the wife of one of these emissaries, something that her husband had fortunately never discovered). Elves despised orcs, and even a half breed such as Xanos would have been treated with utter contempt.

"It is reputed to be haunted by restless spirits, no doubt lies concocted to keep the curious away," Xanos continued, his voice heavy with scorn for the gullibility of the inferior masses. "It is also said to be the repository of many powerful objects crafted by the elves and laid to rest with their owners." The gleam of avarice in his eyes as he spoke was unmistakeable.

"We're not here to rob graves," Camden warned him.

"The dead have no use for such things," Xanos said dismissively, striding forward. Following him, Camden studied the ground in front of the heavy stone door, which was slightly ajar. Small, clawed tracks were visible in the dirt, and in the dust on the stone floor visible just past the door, but the larger tracks of the gnolls indicated that they had milled about outside the structure, then departed, heading south, toward the High Forest. Circling the perimeter, Cam found a single set of kobold tracks going east.

"Looks like most of the kobolds went into the crypt," he murmured, "but the gnolls didn't follow them in."

"It would seem that the rumors have worked to our benefit, then," Xanos replied, looking pleased. "Their foolish superstition means that we need only contend with the little vermin."

Camden nodded, wondering about the significance of the lone set of kobold tracks, but knowing that their best chance of recovering the artifacts lay with locating the main group of the kobolds. Unless, of course, the gnolls had taken them all. He sighed. The only way to find out was to choose a path and follow it until it ended. "We'll need a light spell," he said, pushing the door open and stepping into the darkness beyond.

The half-orc followed him, already speaking the words of the spell. As he finished, an orb of soft light appeared in his outstretched hand, then lifted into the air, hovering just over Xanos' left shoulder, casting enough light to illuminate the clear trail of kobold footprints freshly pressed into the centuries-old layer of dust. Camden noticed other sets of tracks, as well, the thinner dust beginning to obscure them making it clear they had been made long ago. Something about the tracks nagged at him as they followed the kobolds' trail through the vestibule and down a short flight of stairs…something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

At the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves facing a long hallway, its end lost in the darkness beyond the reach of the light. Cast bronze doors covered with intricate elvish script were visible at intervals along the hall, likely the resting places of the higher ranking of the dead, as the remainder of the hall was made up of alcoves into which had been set burial niches, twelve to each alcove. Within each niche lay the skeletal remains of an elf, flesh and cloth long turned to dust, and most of the armor and weapons eaten by rust.

"Ha!" Camden turned at Xanos' triumphant exclamation to see the half-orc reaching into a niche and withdrawing what appeared to be a scepter. Beneath the dust, the gleam of gold and gemstones caught the light cast by the orb.

"Dammit, Xanos," Camden began impatiently, then stopped as the temperature around him plummeted. Turning, he felt his blood grow even colder than the air.

Xanos seemed unaware of the sudden coldness. "By Shar," he breathed, brushing the dust from the scepter with an eager hand, "the value of this bauble alone is beyond price, simply for the gold and jewels…to say nothing of the power that Xanos can sense within it!"

"Xanos," Camden managed to say, but the half orc continued.

"And this when we are only just past the door!" he exclaimed happily. "By the time we leave this place, Xanos will be able to buy a kingdom of his own!"

"Put it back," Cam told him tersely, his heart hammering. From the corner of his eye, he saw a dust covered skeleton curled on the floor, the rotting leather armor plainly not of elvish design, and he realized what had been wrong with the older footprints in the dust on the floor above.

They had all been leading _into_ the crypt. Not a single footprint had been coming out.

"What?" Xanos demanded impatiently. "It is all well and good for a wealthy prince to forsake such treasure from foolish sentiment, but Xanos has no intention of –" His words cut off as he turned around.

Before them stood the ghostly forms of countless elves, glowing faintly, their armor and weapons appearing as the must have when they had marched into their final battle centuries before. Dozens of pairs of eyes stared at the intruders with cold accusation. At the front of the group was an elf taller than the rest, his armor elaborately etched with an intricate pattern of vines and leaves, an ornate, winged helm on his head. In his right hand was a beautifully crafted longsword, which he slowly raised until its point was level with Camden's throat, his handsome face stern.

"Put it back _now_," Camden repeated, his mouth as dry as the bones that filled the niches behind him. Xanos did not reply, but Camden heard him move and turned his head just enough to see him placing the scepter back into the niche from which he had removed it, laying it on a bare ribcage and draping a skeletal hand over it before turning back to face the ghostly army, his eyes wide and his face grey-green in the orb's light.

The elven warrior's eyes remained fixed on Camden, and he felt a touch like a cold wind move through his mind.

_"You seek the kobolds," _the ghost spoke, his voice hollow and emotionless. _"They have brought an abomination into this place. Remove it, and them, and you may leave with your lives. Take anything belonging to those buried here, and your bones will join those of all the others who would dishonor our dead."_

The entire host vanished abruptly, and the temperature of the crypt returned to what it had been before. Camden drew a shaky breath and turned to face Xanos.

"It sounds as though at least one of the artifacts is here," he said, managing to keep his voice level. "What do you say we get it and get our asses out of this place?"

The half orc swallowed hard and nodded wordlessly. With the light of the orb illuminating the hall ahead of them, the pair once again began to follow the kobold tracks into the crypt.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews and for your patience! I have no intention of abandoning the story, but I'm rotating through about half a dozen projects, and I wind up following where the plot bunnies lead._

* * *

Camden paused outside the door, listening to the sounds of squabbling from within. Dissension had definitely broken out in the ranks.

"A couple of fireballs in the room should take care of the little vermin," Xanos commented in a low voice.

"Might destroy whatever artifact they have, as well, though," Cam reminded him. "Sounds like a couple of dozen in there."

"Even rats can be dangerous in sufficient numbers," the half orc growled. "Engaging them in direct combat would be foolhardy."

"Agreed," Cam replied, stepping up to the door and knocking smartly. The chattering behind the door immediately went silent; moments later, barely audible over Xanos' sounds of strangled outrage, a timorous voice could be heard.

"Go 'way, gnolls! We be no kobolds here! We be…what be we?" This last was muttered in a lower tone of voice. "Ogres! We be ogres, and we be hungry! If gnolls run fast, we not eat you!"

Cam rolled his eyes. "Sure got small feet for ogres," he said, "but we're not gnolls. We just want to speak with your leader."

"You…you not sounds like gnoll," the kobold said hesitantly. "Not smell like one, either…but how me know we can trusts you? Lots of things down here try to kill us…you maybe one of the elf-ghosts!"

"Just open the door and look," Camden replied patiently. "We're about as far from elves as you can get."

"Except for kobolds," Xanos muttered, glaring balefully at him, "and if Xanos meets an ignoble death at the hands of these creatures, _his_ ghost will haunt yours for eternity!"

"Just relax," Cam told him, listening to the sounds of a hastily convened conference behind the door. At last, the guard spoke up again.

"Me is going to open the door, but you puts weapons away! That way we knows you not hurt us!"

"The little fools know nothing of what a trained mage can do," Xanos said contemptuously, putting his crossbow into the sling at his hip while Camden sheathed both his daggers.

"All right," Camden called out. "We've put our weapons away."

There was the sound of heavy crates being pushed away from the door, and moments later, the door swung open…outward.

"Nice barricade," he congratulated the kobolds as he stepped inside, his eyes sweeping the room. His guess had been about right; close to two dozen kobolds filled the room. About half of them held flimsy shortbows with arrows nocked, eyeing the intruders nervously.

The kobold by the door yipped in pleasure, missing the sarcasm in the deadpan comment. "Them gnolls come here, they gets a fight! They not get in here easy! What you want?"

"That not for you to ask, Yazka!" another voice rasped. "Me be boss here, so me ask questions!" Cam's eye fell on a kobold near the rear of the chamber, noticeably larger than the rest, and he approached him with the kobold who had guarded the door moving sullenly beside him.

The kobold leader glared up at him. "What you wants here? How you get past gnolls and ghosts?"

"Same as you, I guess," he replied.

"You run like rabbits?" another kobold inquired. "You not look that fast!"

The leader shot him a deadly glare, but Camden intervened before the conversation got sidetracked. "I just figured that you fought your way down here. Those gnolls sure seemed afraid to follow you, and the elven ghosts wanted us to try to get you to leave."

Excited yips burst from all around, and the leader puffed up visibly. "See?" he boasted. "What me tell you? You follow Urko and all fears us!"

"You're Urko?" Cam asked, feigning awe. "_The_ Urko?"

"You hears of me?" the kobold asked, unable to conceal his surprise.

"Of course!" Camden exclaimed, warming to the role. "I just never imagined I'd get the chance to meet such a legend!"

"Hah!" Urko looked around smugly. "You hears that? Urko be a legend!" He eyed Camden suspiciously. "Legend be good thing to be, right?"

"Absolutely," Cam assured him solemnly, ignoring the curious noises emanating from Xanos' direction.

Urko looked at the half orc. "What be the matter with him?" he demanded.

"Dealing with the gnolls and the ghosts was a bit much for him," Cam replied, shooting Xanos a warning glance. "He's got a delicate constitution," he added as his companion managed to compose himself. "It must be hard, leading so many," he went on. "I have a hard time with just one. How do you manage?"

"It be easy," Urko bragged. "Me be the smartest of kobolds, so me be the leader!"

"Not leader of everyone!" Yazka said spitefully. "Deekin no follow you. He runs off alone!"

"Yazka, you shuts up!" another kobold hissed. "Deekin be bad kobold to run away! Urko be leader so we gots to follow him!"

"Who is this Deekin?" Cam asked, thinking of the lone set of tracks above.

"Deekin be big coward!" Urko snapped. "He runs away and leaves when the gnolls catches us."

"Deekin not coward!" Yazka protested. "Him nice and sings pretty songs!"

"Only girl kobold could likes Deekin," the other kobold sneered. "Him runs off and leaves us, and him takes our magic, too!"

Camden had been wondering how one told the difference between male and female kobolds, but the mention of magic got his attention.

"_You_ shuts up, Kipper!" Yazka snapped. "You not supposed to talk about that!"

Urko glared at the squabbling pair. "Deekin be coward and thief, but at least him not stupid," he grumbled.

"He _stole_ from you?" Cam looked shocked. "That's awful! What did he take?"

"That not be your business!" Urko said angrily.

"Yah!" Kipper piped up. "You no needs to know about the tower or the mummy hand!"

"You is so stupid, Kipper!" Yazka informed him smugly. "Why you not shut up and lets Urko and me talks to strangers?"

"You _both_ shuts up!" Urko exclaimed. "Me thinks me demotes both of you!"

"Me sorry, Urko!" Kipper cried in agitation. "No demote me, please! Me not tell him that we still have the hand!"

Cam's heart sank. It seemed that only the hand was here. His mind worked furiously. "The hand? That old thing? What would you want with _that_?"

Urko eyed him suspiciously. "You know 'bout hand?"

"It's a paperweight," Camden lied easily. "It's just a trophy left over from Master Drogan's adventuring days. There's no magic in it."

"What?" Urko's eyes bulged.

"That's why it not work to drive off kobolds!" Yazka squeaked. "Them nasty gnolls take the tooth and the mask, then Deekin takes the tower after he breaks it, and all we gots is this stupid hand!"

The tower was broken? _This day just gets better and better._ "Why did you take those things, anyway? Did someone pay you to do it?"

"Me not tell you nothing!" Urko shouted, pacing up and down agitatedly. "Me got to figure out how to gets us out of here without them gnolls and ghosts getting us!" He had evidently forgotten about his legendary status.

"The gnolls are gone," Cam told him soothingly, "and I think I have an idea about the ghosts, if you're willing to listen."

"Me listens," Urko said, "but if me not likes what me hears, you dies! Me has bad day, very bad!"

"The hand has no magic," Cam said, "but it is from an old enemy of the elves; that's why they tried to attack you coming in. Give us the hand. We'll go first and act as a distraction so that you can get away."

"Why you do that?" Urko asked him disbelievingly.

Cam shrugged. "I figure we owe it to you," he said sincerely. "It wasn't very nice of Master Drogan to keep a worthless item locked up with the other stuff. How's an honest thief supposed to tell the difference?"

"Yah!" Urko exclaimed in indignation. "You right! You owes us big for that!" Striding to a pack on the floor, he withdrew a withered hand and tossed it to Camden, who caught it easily. "You goes now!" he ordered them as Cam tucked the hand into his backpack. "Let them ghosts be chasing _you_!"

Slinging the backpack over his shoulders, he gave them a jaunty salute. "Good luck, little friends!" he called over his shoulder as he jogged from the room, Xanos at his heels. They saw nothing on their way out of the tomb, but the air near the exit grew momentarily colder for a brief moment.

Once outside, he led Xanos a short distance into the forest surrounding the tomb. They crouched there motionless, waiting.

They did not have long to wait. Perhaps a minute passed before the first tiny head peered cautiously from the tomb. The cry of "Gnolls all gone!" floated to their ears, and immediately the entire band flooded out, yipping excitedly.

"Ghosts got 'em good!" Yazka exclaimed. "Me not even see bones left!"

"Now you see why me be leader!" Urko told them. "Me trick stupid human and ugly orc into taking hand, so _they _dies, not us!"

"You be good leader, Urko," Yazka said. "You be so good that I bet you already know what you gonna say to tell Master that we not have any of the things he wants!"

"Oh, me knows exactly what me gonna do!" Urko informed her. "Me gonna have _you _tell him!"

The chattering continued as the group moved off to the north, towards the Nether Mountains. Cam and Xanos waited in silence for a minute or two more, then emerged from concealment.

"Kobolds are reputed to be clever," Xanos observed, shaking his head in disgust. "Obviously cleverness and intelligence are mutually exclusive."

"Lucky for us," Cam replied with a crooked grin. "I wish my marks in Lyrabar had been that easy to fleece."

"Xanos is surprised that all you wished to do was fleece them," Xanos commented, eyeing him curiously, "after what happened in Hilltop and the school."

"It wasn't the time," Cam replied curtly. "They're nothing more than lackeys, anyway. The one I want is the one who sent them."

"Should we follow them, then?" the half orc suggested. "It is likely that they will lead us to this Master of theirs."

"I know," Cam admitted, "but we know they don't have any of the other artifacts, and that's what we're after. Revenge is going to have to wait for now. We need to either track down that kobold that ran away or go after the gnolls. Maybe we should go back, ask Ayla for some advice…" He took a step on the path, intending to go back to the main trail, when suddenly he felt a violent movement from inside his backpack. In an instant, he had dropped the pack to the ground and leaped several feet away. Xanos looked at him in astonishment.

"The damn thing is moving!" Cam exclaimed, pointing at the bundle, which was visibly twitching from within. Picking up a long branch, he edged back toward the pack and used the branch to loosen the top flap and tease open the pack. The hand rolled out onto the ground, grey and withered, the tattooed fingers moving sluggishly…but the fact that they were moving at _all_ was highly unsettling.

"Incredible," Xanos breathed in awe. "This much have been a lich of tremendous power, indeed."

"Wonderful," Cam muttered, using the branch to nudge the hand back into the pack and moving forward to tie it tightly shut. He had been planning to return to the school on foot, not wanting to waste the focus crystals on such a short trip, but… "We're going back now," he said firmly, lifting the pack and holding it well away from his body. "Use your ring."

Xanos nodded, though his eyes lingered hungrily on the pack. Camden ran his thumb over the ring on his right hand, where the focus crystal was mounted, ready to utter the command that would activate the spell and return him to the school. Let Ayla deal with the damn thing.

"Wait!" A thin, reedy voice cried out. "Waaaiit!! Deekin must talk to you!"

Turning, Cam saw a single kobold running toward them from the east, waving its arms frantically.

"The one who stole the tower," Xanos murmured as the creature drew nearer. "With luck, we can bring two of the artifacts back quickly."

The kobold was smaller than the others had been, and curiously attired in tattered leather armor that had been dyed in a riot of colors. There was a cheap shortsword belted around his waist and a battered lute slung across his back.

"What do you want?" Cam asked as the kobold staggered to a stop before them, panting for breath.

"Deekin watches you! Deekin sees that you be great human hero!" he exclaimed. "Deekin needs your help, he does! Needs help so very badly!"

"A human hero?" Xanos looked indignant. "And what of the half orc hero whose greatness eclipses him?"

The kobold eyed Xanos curiously. "Half orcs not be heroes. Deekin reads lots of books and not one half orc hero story! Humans and elves and dwarves be heroes!"

"And what do the stories say about foolish little lizards who do not know enough to be silent before their betters?" Xanos queried him ominously.

"No kobold hero stories, either," Deekin said sadly. "Not even one."

Camden eyed him speculatively. He didn't seem to be carrying the tower; they would have to proceed with caution. "Why should I help you after what you and your companions did to the people of Hilltop and Master Drogan?"

"Deekin not want to go!" the kobold squeaked frantically. "Deekin only goes because the Master tells him to, and Deekin not hurts nobody! Master just wanted Deekin to write story or song about the raid to tells him later! The Master likes Deekin's songs and stories, but…" he swallowed hard and a single tear ran down his scaly nose. "Deekin did something bad…very bad! Master will be so very angry with Deekin, so very, very angry that Deekin can never goes back!"

Undoubtedly, the kobold was referring to the breaking of the tower. "Who is this Master of yours?" he asked him.

"Master is great dragon Tymofarrar, ruler of kobolds!" Deekin declared earnestly. "Him be very scary; gots lots of sharp teeth and very bad breath, but him thinks Deekin be funny." He sighed dolefully. "Him not think Deekin be funny any more."

A dragon. _Should have known that a day that started with a knee in the balls wasn't going to be a good one._ Trying to buy a bit of time to think, he said, "So, why is this Tymofarrar going to be angry with you?"

"Deekin was carrying tower statue back to Master, but we be attacked by nasty gnolls!" He looked beseechingly at Cam. "Deekin not mean to drop it, but him be so very afraid! It hits rock and cracks open, just like Zeebo's head when Urko hits him with rock." He paused thoughtfully. "Inside Zeebo's head all messy, though. The tower just gots something shiny inside, very pretty to look at. Much nicer than Zeebo's brains."

"So, the tower broke," Cam said, trying to maintain his patience with the creature's rambling. "What happened then?"

"Deekin ran," the kobold replied, looking ashamed. "Nasty gnolls kept chasing us and Urko wants us to go into scary elf-graves, but Deekin not wants to. Him takes the tower and runs away while the gnolls not looking."

"So…where's the tower now?" Cam asked as casually as possible. "Did you throw it away after it broke?"

The kobold shook his head. "Deekin hides it, hides it real good so gnolls never find it!" He paused, then added slyly, "But Deekin would give you tower if you helps him!"

Cam sighed. He had known that something like this was coming. "And what exactly is it that you want us to do for you?"

"Deekin wants you to set him free from the Master!"

"You are free now, you foolish reptile!" Xanos growled in exasperation. "And if you wish to remain so, I suggest that you turn over the tower statue now!"

The kobold took a nervous step backward. "Deekin not free, not really," he explained. "Master can find Deekin whenever he wants, and if him finds Deekin…" The kobold shivered.

"So the dragon was the one who ordered you to steal the artifacts from the school?" Camden asked him. "What did he want with them?"

"The Master not say, and Deekin not ask," Deekin replied. "Master gets mad if Deekin be asking too many questions, and when Master gets mad…" He shivered again. "Deekin sees him breathe on a kobold once when him mad and make little lizard icicle!"

"There's no way that we can fight a dragon, Deekin," Cam told him seriously. "If you give us the tower statue, maybe we can bargain with him. It's not even magic; it's a paperweight, just an old souvenir from Master Drogan's adventuring days."

The kobold regarded him scornfully. "Master says that Deekin dumb, but him not _that_ dumb. Deekin gives you the statue now and you be leaving him high and dry. Maybe Urko believe what you tell him, but Deekin knows that great heroes not be out looking for paperweights! You helps Deekin first, then him gives you the tower!"

"What do you expect us to do?" Cam demanded. "I told you that there's no way we can fight him!"

"You not needs to fight him," Deekin assured him. "The Master be smart, very smart. You just talks to him. You be great hero; Deekin knows you can do it!"

"I say that we build a fire here and hold his feet to it," Xanos rumbled menacingly. "The scent of his own flesh cooking will persuade him to surrender the tower."

The kobold backed away even further, poised to run. "That not be what great hero would do," he said reproachfully, "and you must catch Deekin before you can cooks him!"

"Hold," Camden muttered from the side of his mouth. "I'm no hero," he told Deekin in a matter of fact tone. "I'm just trying to get back what you and your friends stole from my master." His words had covered the soft murmurings from Xanos; as he finished speaking, the half orc released the spell and the kobold's eyes widened in terror as he found himself unable to move.

"Fortunately for you," Camden added, striding forward and scooping Deekin up under one arm, "I'm not all that fond of the smell of roasting kobold. I'll try it your way, but I want you where I can find you easily when I'm done." Nodding to Xanos, he touched his ring, murmuring the words to transport himself back to the school.


	8. Chapter 8

Nani's sharp cry of surprise when they appeared suddenly in the common room brought Dorna and Mischa on the run.

"Ha! Ye got one of th' little buggers!" Dorna exclaimed, eyeing the terrified kobold with satisfaction.

"Get me some rope," Cam told her. The spell would be wearing off soon. "Where's Ayala?" he asked Mischa as the dwarf disappeared into the storeroom.

"Why did you bring that – that creature back here?" the girl demanded, ignoring his question. "It should be killed immediately!" Camden hadn't thought it possible for Deekin's eyes to grow any wider.

"He knows where one of the artifacts is," he replied. "A bit hard to get information from a corpse."

"It would not be a problem if Drogan had permitted Xanos to study necromancy as he wished to," the half-orc muttered petulantly. Deekin managed to emit a squeak of terror through the restraint of the spell.

"He was right to forbid it!" Mischa proclaimed. "Such foul practices are an abomination!"

"An abomination of what?" Xanos asked in exasperation. "The dead are dead; what do they care what is done with their corpses?"

"It's just – just _wrong_, Xanos!" the girl shot back. "It's a perversion of all that is natural and good!"

"So killing this scaled rat would be acceptable, but gaining valuable information from his corpse, which would otherwise do nothing but rot, is an abomination?" Camden heard a strangled squall from Deekin, and the kobold went limp in his grasp as Xanos continued scornfully, "Your reasoning is as sloppy as your swordwork, Mischa."

"Enough, both of you!" Nani scolded them, recovering from her shock. "Mischa, you know that Ayala said that Master Drogan needs peace and quiet to recover!" The girl flushed guiltily, and Xanos' smug expression vanished as the housekeeper rounded on him. "And he has good reasons for not teaching necromancy, Xanos; he's got more years of experience than the four of you put together have been alive, so you'd do well to heed him!"

"By Vergadain's beard!" Dorna grumbled as she returned with a coil of thin rope. "Can the two of ye not leave off of yer squabblin' at a time like this?" She swept both of them with a look of scathing disgust as she helped Cam tie up the unconscious kobold.

"Put him in the store room and lock the door," he told her. She nodded, tossing Deekin easily over one shoulder and heading back toward the storeroom.

"We've got one of the artifacts," Cam told Nani, letting his pack slide to the floor; he could still feel the hand moving within. "I need to talk to Ayala, though. Is she –"

"I am here," the elf said from the stairway. "I thought that I would come down and make certain that we were not being attacked again," she added, looking pointedly at Mischa and Xanos. "You say that you have one of the artifacts?"

Camden nodded, crouching beside the pack and loosening the top gingerly. "The hand…but there's a bit of a problem –" He scrambled backward as the hand fell from the pack, its fingers still twitching, blindly seeking an unknown target.

Mischa recoiled with an exclamation of disgust; Dorna, coming back to stand beside her, peered with wary curiosity at the thing, while Nani gasped and hurried away, murmuring something about having something in the oven to tend to.

"I see…" Ayala descended the stairs and approached the hand, studying it with narrowed eyes before crouching and picking it up to look at it closely, seemingly untroubled by the way it continued to move in her hands. "It seems that the rumors of its powers were true," she murmured at last. "It could prove useful."

"What powers could possibly justify the use of such a foul thing?" Mischa demanded, eyeing the elf mistrustfully.

Ayala regarded her for a long moment, then shrugged slightly, turning to direct her reply to Camden. "It seems to be attuned to the other artifacts…possibly because it has been kept in close proximity to them for so long. If you were to keep it with you, it could guide you to their locations."

Cam eyed the thing dubiously. They would be traveling further afield now, and the notion of spending a night with it nearby was not something that he found enticing. "I'll use it if I have to," he said at last, "but as long as we have some leads on the other artifacts, I think it ought to stay locked up here."

Xanos scowled, but the elf nodded approvingly. "A reasonable compromise," she told him. "What have you learned of the other artifacts?"

"We've captured a kobold who claims to have the tower," Cam said, "but he says that he dropped and broke it."

Ayala's brow furrowed in confusion. "He is either mistaken or lying," she said flatly. "Artifacts of such power cannot be broken in such a simple fashion."

"I don't think he's lying," he replied. "Kobolds don't seem to have much talent for it. He says that he'll give it to me if I can persuade his master to free him. His master is a white dragon, by the way," he added, watching Mischa's eyes widen incredulously.

"Tymofarrar?" Ayala said in surprise, then shook her head. "I should have made that connection before now," she said disgustedly.

"You know him?" Cam asked.

"I know of him," she replied. "He's young…only a few centuries old. He has a lair in the Nether Mountains to the east, and he is known to keep a retinue of kobolds. He would have been eager to acquire the artifacts to add to his horde, but how would he have heard of them and where they were kept?"

"Guess Dorna and I will have to ask him," Cam said, giving the dwarf a questioning look and receiving an enthusiastic grin in response.

"_What_?" Mischa and Xanos exclaimed in unison; they glared at each other, then at Camden.

"We're not going to fight him," Cam told them. "We wouldn't stand a chance, even against a young dragon."

"All the more reason why we should send for the Orders," Mischa began heatedly.

"If I were to send for anyone, it would be additional Harpers," Ayala cut her off, "but there is no time. Camden's plan is sound; dragons are intelligent, and may be reasoned with."

"Especially since it sounds as though his kobolds may have lost the other two artifacts," Cam added. "They were ambushed by gnolls on the road; the gnolls took the mask and the tooth."

"Gnolls?" Ayala shook her head. "This becomes stranger and stranger. Gnolls would have no interest in such things unless they were under the orders of another."

"Maybe the same one who told the dragon where the artifacts were?" Cam suggested. "If he was double-crossed, he might be more willing to give us some information."

"Would that be before or after he devours you?" Mischa asked acidly. "This entire notion is insane!"

"It's the best option we have, and it's the one we're taking," he replied firmly. "We're going to have to use stealth and tact, and that means me and Dorna."

"I'd suggest spending the night here and starting fresh in the morning," Ayala told him. "It's close to sunset now."

"I was planning on it," Cam said. "How is Master Drogan doing?"

"He's stable," Ayala assured him, "but still unconscious. He probably won't wake for another day, at least; you can go in to see him if you keep quiet."

Cam nodded. "I need to ask Nani about some travel rations first," he said, heading for the kitchen. After receiving the housekeeper's assurances that she would have several days' worth of food ready for them in the morning, he headed upstairs, where he spent nearly half an hour at Drogan's bedside, holding one of the dwarf's callused hands in both his own and peering worriedly into the sallow face. Nani brought him a bowl of stew and a thick slice of buttered bread, and he ate there before making his way toward his room, more than ready for sleep.

"I can't believe that you are letting that woman order you around like this." Mischa's voice, low but unmistakably angry, brought him around to see her standing in the open doorway of her room, glaring at him.

"In the first place, she's _not_ ordering me around," he said, strolling across the hallway toward her. "She's making suggestions that I happen to agree with, and in the second place, even if I _didn't_ agree with her, I'd be listening to her, because with Master Drogan out of action, she's the most experienced person we've got."

Mischa snorted in contempt. "Experienced enough to let you and Dorna risk your lives while she stays here in safety," she said disdainfully.

"And this bothers you?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow and giving her a slight smile. "I never knew you cared."

"Don't." she snapped, spinning on her heel and walking into her room. He caught the door before it could slam shut and followed her.

"Don't what?" he wanted to know. She turned, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the manners of a barbarian?" she asked him acidly.

"Besides you?" He cocked his head, pretending to think, then shook his head. "Not that I recall…now what exactly is it that I'm not supposed to do?"

If looks could shoot daggers, he'd have been skewered where he stood. "Do not _ever_ mention what happened this morning," she ordered him angrily. "Not to me, and most definitely not to anyone else!"

"Who mentioned it?" he asked innocently.

"You know what I'm talking about!" she exclaimed, her face flushing. "I don't want to hear your filthy innuendoes every time I turn around!"

"Filthy?" He could feel himself getting irritated now; if she was going to call a bit of light teasing 'filthy innuendo'… "You didn't seem to think I was so 'filthy' when you were kissing me!" he growled.

"_You_ kissed _me_!" she hissed at him.

"You weren't exactly being passive!" he shot back. _Right up until the time you racked me._

"You just…caught me by surprise, that's all," she replied, crossing her arms defensively as her blush deepened.

"Oh, is that all?" Perversity was taking hold in him again, and he was tired enough, irritated enough not to put up much of a fight against it. "Fine; no surprises this time," he told her as he stepped forward. "I am going to kiss you, Mischa Waymeet," he told her, his voice as slow and deliberate as his walk. "All you have to do…is tell me to stop."

As he approached, she backed away, but remained silent, her eyes wide and the expression in them unreadable. When her back hit the wall, he paused, giving her the opportunity to speak. When she did not, he closed the last of the distance between them, resting his hands flat against the wall to either side of her as he lowered his lips to hers: softly at first, then with more pressure as he felt her responding to the kiss with a shiver, her lips softening and parting slightly beneath his.

The same rush of desire flooded through him, and he pressed his hands more firmly against the wall, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. This was just proving a point, he told himself firmly. Nothing more. Nothing more…

He felt her hands come up to brush against his chest, and his control nearly vanished, but the hands fell away after a second or two. He held the kiss for a moment longer, then drew back, his eyes staring into hers (though he remained ready to intercept an incoming knee). "Filthy?" he asked softly.

She turned her head, but not before he caught the glimmer of tears beneath her pale lashes. "Get out," she ordered him hoarsely, "and never kiss me again, Camden Delaine. Do you understand me? _Never_!"

"No need," he drawled with deliberate carelessness, trying to ignore the hammering of his heart in his chest. "I've made my point, I think."

He heard a muffled sob as he turned to the door. _Dammit. _This hadn't worked out quite as he had planned, but there was no way to go back and undo it now. He didn't think that she would accept comfort from him at the moment, and he damn sure didn't feel like apologizing, so he simply pulled the door closed behind him as he left.

There was no one else in the hall, thank the gods, and he strode across to enter his own room, remembering not to slam the door before he flopped down on his bed without bothering to pull his clothes off.

_What in the Nine Hells were you trying to prove, you jackass?_ he asked himself irritably. _That no woman can refuse Camden the Great, or that you could piss her off even more than you already have…and hurt her in the process?_ He'd not been the cause of a woman's tears since Laianna, the serving girl that he had told Drogan about…and he'd fully intended never to be so again.

_Just leave her alone from now on, like she told you. There are plenty of women out there who don't treat you like you're carrying a contagious disease, so why waste time badgering one that does? You've got better ways to spend your time, right?_

_Right, _he agreed with himself firmly, kicking off his boots, rolling onto his side and fluffing his pillow before dropping his head back down…but it was still some time before he finally managed to fall asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

"So…" Dorna began after they had been walking in silence for nearly an hour.

Camden shot her a sideways glance. "Don't start," he warned her irritably. His sleep the previous night had been restless, and Mischa's conspicuous absence at their departure had not improved his mood.

The dwarf gave him an innocent look that he knew meant trouble. "Start what? I was simply goin' t'ask ye if ye had any ideas as to why Her Holiness spent most of last night in the trainin' arena, pounding the daylights out of the pell."

"I don't," he grunted in response, "so drop it, please."

"No?" Dorna gave him a merciless grin. "I only thought that ye might because ye look a bit short of sleep, yerself, and seein' as how you usually sleep like a babe…"

"I said to drop it!" he snapped, increasing his pace until he was striding well ahead of the dwarf. He was already feeling like a royal ass (pun fully intended), and being on the receiving end of Dorna's biting wit, though it was admittedly richly deserved, was the last thing that he felt like enduring this morning.

He should have given in to temptation and sneaked out and down to Hilltop. Katha or Bekka (or both), would have been more than happy to keep him company; he would not have spent the night plagued by dreams in which he had done a great deal more than just kiss Mischa, and for damn sure wouldn't have woken up surly, with a rarely-experienced ache of frustration in his groin that had sent him stumbling for a cold bath.

Hells, he'd dealt with women who weren't interested in him before; it wasn't as though _he_ was even really interested in _her_ in the first place. For the last six months, she had been a source of frequent amusement and occasional irritation, but after his early attempts at flirting (which were almost as instinctive to him as breathing when he first encountered an attractive female) had been soundly rebuffed, he'd given that particular issue no further thought until now.

All right, she was pretty enough, and her kisses had been surprisingly pleasing, considering that she had quite obviously had no prior experience, but beyond that… He shrugged. The notion of anything between them was ludicrous, and a bit of time spent in the arms of a willing woman would no doubt cure this perverse fixation that his hormones had developed.

"She's been sweet on ye since her first week here, y'know," Dorna said slyly as she caught up with him.

Cam stared down at the dwarf, astonishment shifting quickly to skepticism. "You're either joking or hallucinating. She can't stand me…she's said so any number of times."

Dorna chuckled. "Oh, I've heard her right enough, but I've also _seen_ her watchin' ye when she thinks no one else is payin' attention. Mind ye, she's not all calf-eyed or anything." Her eyes danced wickedly as she added, "Mainly, she looks like she's tryin' tae convince herself that she _doesn't_ like such a disgustin', arrogant, amoral individual, but the couple of times she's caught me watchin' her, she's colored up right quick."

"I still think you're imagining things," he muttered, but he could feel his irritability returning, because he knew that the dwarf was damned observant, and had in all likelihood caught something that he had missed. It perhaps explained Mischa's response to his kiss, but it damn sure didn't make him feel any better about what he had done, and it made it all the more imperative for him to make certain that it never happened again.

_No strings attached, no one gets hurt._

He opened his mouth to say more when the wind brought the first faint cries to his ears. He stopped, his head lifted and one hand raised to forestall any words from Dorna. One look at him, and she was alert, as well, cocking her head to one side as she listened.

"It's comin' from the Hurst's farm," she said at last.

Cam nodded. Nathan Hurst was a dwarven farmer and an old friend of Drogan's. Cam had been there with his mentor on several occasions, purchasing produce for the school. "His wife's expecting a baby soon, isn't she?" The cries were definitely those of a woman.

"Aye, but those be no birthin' screams," Dorna replied, loosening the ties that secured her crossbow to her back. She listened for a moment longer, then frowned. "Or maybe they are…but somethin' is not right about them."

Camden slid his short sword and dagger from their sheaths as the pair moved forward cautiously. The farm itself showed no signs of attack. The milk cow grazed contentedly in her pasture, a sow nursed her piglets while the boar rooted for scraps beneath the trough, and chickens scratched in the dust outside the farmhouse from which the distressed cries emanated. Edging closer, Cam put one ear to the door.

"You go after that great brute, Nathan Hurst!" Cam recognized the voice of Abigail Hurst, Nathan's wife. "I'll not have Lanna in his clumsy hands another…oh, gods!" Her words dissolved into a pained groan.

"I can't leave you like this!" Nathan bellowed, his frustration audible. "I've sent Dhougal and Kale for the midwife; I'll set out as soon as they're back."

Cam exchanged a glance with Dorna. This was not what they had been sent out to do, but both of them knew what Master Drogan would have expected of them. Sheathing his weapons, Camden knocked at the door; the voices inside cut off abruptly, and moments later he found himself looking down into Nathan's ruddy, bearded face.

"It's about damned…oh, Camden, Dorna…my apologies," the dwarf said, breaking off his tirade with an ill concealed look of disappointment. "I thought you might be the midwife; Abigail's time is near, and –"

"We know, sir," Cam cut him off. "We heard as we were coming to the door. What's happened to Lanna?"

"That bloody great oaf of an ogre has kidnapped my daughter, that's what has happened!" Abigail's voice rose up from somewhere in the back of the house. "And this fool sits here watching me and tearing his beard out when he should be out rescuing Lanna before that buffoon trips and falls on her!"

"Quiet, woman!" Nathan bellowed in return. "I told you I'm not leaving you alone so close to birthing!"

"And I told you that I've a good three hours or more before this babe crowns!" she shot back. "I've delivered four times before this, so I think I might have _some_ idea what I'm talking about!"

"All right, all _right_!" he roared, his face turning an alarming shade of red. "It's not just that," he said in a much lower voice as he turned back to Cam and Dorna. "I've not told Abigail, but there've been kobolds slinking about the last couple of days. I found their tracks around the perimeter of the farm, and I killed one last night…looked like he'd already been in a fight of some sort. That's why I sent my sons for the midwife together, and why I _can't_ leave her here alone."

"Is she talkin' about Rumgut, sir?" Dorna asked. The ogre, who had been cast out of his clan for being a runt, had always been peaceful, but Drogan had nonetheless warned his students against dealings with him; runt or not, he could still be a formidable opponent if provoked.

"Aye," Nathan grunted, looking torn between worry and disgust. "He's never been a problem before; he'd come in to trade venison and skins for his spirits and the occasional dozen eggs or some fruit, and he actually did a good job keeping the wolf and bear population down. This morning, though, Lanna went to get some water from the well after Abigail's labor started. I heard her scream and looked up to see him runnin' for the hills with her tossed over his shoulder like a sack of grain. He wasn't even trying to be sneaky…not that he'd be any good at it, but he left two deer and a bundle of hides behind." Worry rippled across his face. "You don't think he's developed a taste for something besides venison and eggs, do you?"

Camden frowned and shook his head. "That wouldn't make much sense, sir. The winter was mild, and the hunters in Hilltop said that game was plentiful, so he couldn't be hungry." He sent a questioning glance to Dorna, who shrugged and nodded. "I know where his cave is; Dorna and I can go there and get her back."

"The two of you are no match for him," Nathan said dubiously. "I'd planned to wait until the boys got back, then round up some of the guards from Hilltop to help me."

"Hilltop's not in much shape to offer help," Cam admitted. "The kobolds attacked the town two nights ago and did a lot of damage."

Nathan's broad face creased with concern. "The little bastards!" he growled. "Looked like they took some damage themselves, at least. And Drogan's got you two tracking them?"

"Something like that," Cam replied, his eyes warning Dorna not to say anything that would lead to the need for a long-winded explanation. "And I wasn't really thinking about fighting Rotgut, sir. He's not really that bright, from the accounts that I've heard; we ought to be able to find a way to outsmart him."

Nathan nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "No, he's not the sharpest blade on the plow…even for an ogre." At last, he nodded decisively. "I'd be grateful if you'd make the attempt. If he's hurt her, even by accident…" his expression darkened.

"We'll get her back, sir," Cam assured him, grabbing Dorna by the arm and pulling her away from the farmhouse.

"And how can ye be so sure of that?" the dwarf demanded when they were safely out of earshot.

"I can't," he replied candidly, "but standing there helping him think of worst-case scenarios wasn't going to get us any closer to finding out what's going on."

"He's right about us bein' no match fer an ogre…even a runty one," Dorna warned him.

Cam chuckled. "I happen to agree with him on that point; we're not going to fight him. If it looks like that's what it's going to take to get her back, then Nathan's going to have to get help from the Hilltop guard. We can't get sidetracked for too long."

"I hope it doesn't require fightin', then," Dorna muttered contemptuously, "because if the Hilltop guard can't handle kobolds, 'tis a poor showin' they'd make against an ogre."

She was right, but there was nothing to be gained in further discussion, so they continued on in silence as the forest that surrounded Nathan's fields gave way to the rocky foothills of the Nether Mountains. They smelled the cave well before they reached it, the scent of rotting flesh and the distinctive odor of an irregular bather mingling unpleasantly on the breeze, making Dorna gag.

"The damn smell's likely done her in!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth and nose with one hand.

From their vantage point behind a large boulder, Camden eyed the pile of bones that had evidently simply been tossed from the cave, bits of meat in various stages of decay still clinging to them. Nothing but animal bones, as far as he could tell, which made a sudden craving for dwarf stew seem unlikely. He moved closer, Dorna at his heels, until he could hear Rumgut inside the cave, singing happily to himself in a voice that could most kindly be described as unmelodious.

"By Vergadain's beard, that sound would curdle fresh milk!" Dorna grumbled, seeming undecided whether her ears or her nose needed shielding the most.

"Well, he sounds cheerful, at least," Cam said dubiously. Deciding to take the straightforward approach, he stepped from behind the boulder and approached the cave mouth, a muttered and decidedly non-cheerful oath from Dorna indicating that she was following him.

A crackling fire illuminated the interior of the cave, the smoke drawn out a small crack in the ceiling. Cam's heart sank at the sight of a large iron pot bubbling over the flames until he spotted Lanna in a small iron cage, looking more irritated than afraid as she glared at her captor, who was still singing as he skinned a freshly killed deer.

"Stay here," he told Dorna in a low voice. "If things go south, haul ass back to Nathan."

"Dammit, Cam!" Dorna hissed, but the human was already in motion. Swearing to herself, the dwarf crouched in the shadows by the cave mouth.

"Good morning!" Camden announced, plastering a friendly expression on his face as he strode across the cave, acutely aware of the fact that, even crouched over the deer, Rumgut was still a good two feet taller than he was, and significantly broader.

The ogre glanced up in puzzlement, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he spotted Cam. "What you want?" he demanded in a guttural version of Common Tongue.

"It'd better be to get me the hells out of here!" Lanna shouted angrily. "Cam, is that you?"

"Nothing at all," Cam replied, making a 'be quiet' gesture behind his back. "I was just passing by and heard you singing. I thought I would find out what the celebration was."

"Cel'brashun?" Rumgut's massive brow creased in puzzlement. "Don't got none of those, but do got a deer for stew. Make good wedding feast!"

Cam's lips twitched as an indignant squawk rose from the cage behind him. "A wedding, you say? Who is the lucky couple?"

The ogre's homely face beamed as he gestured to Lanna. "Me is! Rumgut finally finds wife to cook an' clean for him!"

"And I tell you that I'll jump in your stewpot before I'll clean up this pigsty!" Lanna announced in a shrill voice. "And if you think I'll spend my whole day cooking to fill that great gut of yours –"

"Not Greatgut…_Rum_gut," the ogre corrected her with an indulgent smile. "She almost as loud as Rumgut's mother," he told Cam proudly.

"I'm sure she is," Camden agreed, "but isn't she a little small to be your wife?"

The ogre glanced toward the cage. "Maybe now," he rumbled, "but she grow fast. Rumgut feed her good!" He shook the deer in the air, and several yards of intestine slithered out of the belly to pool in the dirt. "Rumgut good hunter…always has deer or bear for food!"

"I'm sure that you are an excellent provider," Cam told him, fighting down a fresh wave of nausea as the thick scent of the disemboweled deer joined the other odors, "and I am certain that any number of females would be delighted to have such a husband, so why would you pick such a scrawny specimen? You _do_ know that she is a dwarf, don't you? Nathan says that you come to his farm to trade regularly."

"And _that's_ damn well going to change!" Lanna snapped.

Rumgut looked wounded. "Me likes farmer and his fam'ly, but Rumgut wants fam'ly, too. No ogres here, but Rumgut smart!" A sly grin creased his face. "Me knows that dwarves be small because dwarves _eat_ small! Rumgut feed his wife like an ogre, she grow like an ogre in no time!"

Camden sighed. This was not going to be easy. It would have been much more palatable if he had been trying to trick a malicious, murderous beast. "Rumgut, it doesn't work that way," he explained as patiently as he could. "No matter how much you feed her, she's never going to get any bigger than she is now, and Nathan is angry that you took his daughter. If you keep her, you'll never be able to trade with him for eggs and fruit again. You don't want that, do you?"

The ogre's look of hurt and puzzlement intensified. "But me leaves good bride-price for farmer!" he protested. "Farmer's wife havin' baby…maybe 'nother girl-dwarf, so him not miss this one." A great tear formed in one eye and rolled down his cheek to splatter among the deer entrails. "Rumgut be lonely! Been 'lone since other ogres make Rumgut leave."

"But you've made something of yourself since then!" Camden exclaimed, seizing on the only idea that presented itself. "You have this wonderful cave, all the deer and bears that any ogress could want to eat, and you can get eggs and fruit from the farmer."

"And rum!" the ogre said with a gap-toothed grin, slapping his considerable belly with one hand. "That how Rumgut gets his name!"

"And rum," Cam agreed readily, beginning to see a flicker of hope. "Now, how many other ogres have all that to offer a wife?"

Rumgut frowned thoughtfully. "Rumgut's old clan just eats meat and maybe some duck eggs, when they can gets them. No farms around to trade for fruit and rum." He glanced hopefully at Cam. "You thinks that a she-ogre might like Rumgut, even though he not as big as the other ogres?"

"I think it's worth a try," Cam said encouragingly, "but it would only work if the farmer is still willing to trade with you…and that will only happen if you let his daughter go." He gave Lanna a meaningful glance. "Right?"

The dwarfmaid looked less than pleased, but nodded her assent. "If you let me go, I'll tell Papa to keep trading with you," she promised, glaring up at the ogre, "but _only_ if you don't go grabbing me up again!"

Rumgut nodded eagerly. "No more, Rumgut promise," he said, his massive hands moving to unlock the cage. "And you tell farmer that he keep bride-price as present from Rumgut."

"I'm sure he'll be delighted with that," Cam said smoothly, cutting off Lanna's acidic retort, "and I'll tell him that they can look forward to meeting your new wife soon."

"Not too soon," Rumgut corrected him. "Rumgut's clan live long ways away. Took Rumgut two moons to walk here, but Rumgut be back with wife before leaves turn to fire."

"I'll tell them that," Cam promised, following Lanna toward the cave mouth as the ogre began rummaging among the skins piled in one corner of the cave, presumably in search of appropriate garments for wooing an ogress.

"That bloody, ham-handed idiot!" Lanna exploded as soon as they were outside. Dorna joined Camden in hustling her away from the cave with all haste as she continued her tirade. "I'll have bruises for weeks from being bounced around like a haybale, and these clothes will have to be burned to get rid of the smell!"

"He didn't mean any harm," Cam said with a shrug, glancing over his shoulder in case the ogre changed his mind. "Just lonely and not too bright."

"Typical male, y'mean," Dorna said slyly, and the other dwarf cackled appreciatively, visibly cooling down.

"Well, Papa says that he does keep the wolves and bears killed off," she conceded, "so I suppose there's no harm in trading with him, but what if he doesn't find a wife from his clan?"

"Ye've got a few months before ye have tae worry about that," Dorna told her, "and if he starts misbehavin' again, we'll just send Cam, here, to sweet talk him some more." She gave Cam a wicked grin. "You were so damn smooth, I half expected him to decide _you'd_ make him a lovely wife!"

Cam grinned back, knowing that was the closest thing to a compliment that he was going to get from his friend. "Well, it was either that or try to convince him that _you_ were an undersized ogress!"

OOO

Mischa swung again at the pell with her blunted practice blade, sweat pouring down her face, forcing herself to maintain proper form with the sword and shield, despite her aching muscles and the desire to simply hammer blindly against the practice post. She had kept herself at this activity for the majority of the last two days, but neither this nor the few hours exhausted sleep that she managed each night had settled the storm of emotions within her. If anything, it had intensified, the outrage and humiliation that Camden had caused being fed by frustration at Ayala's inscrutable demeanor and anger at Xanos' smug insinuations about her lack of competence.

At least the half-orc seemed to have no idea of what had occurred, but Dorna's knowing silence when she had passed her on the stairs that night had been almost as infuriating as any snide comments that Xanos could have made.

Damn him…_damn_ him for treating her like one of the brainless, shameless females that were always throwing themselves at him!

She aimed another vicious swing at the pell. And damn _her_, for acting like one…practically melting into his arms at a simple kiss! The memory of the way her heart had been pounding made her grit her teeth in anger and swing again, giving a grunt of satisfaction as a large chip of wood went flying.

She wasn't some damsel in distress, not some swooning farm girl or sluttish barmaid! She was a warrior, better with most of the weapons than any of the students, including Camden! She _would_ be a paladin one day, no matter what that vile, spiteful Xanos said, and she was not about to let herself be distracted from that goal by a pair of beguiling brown eyes that saw her as just another conquest to be made and forgotten.

The sound of galloping hoofbeats on the road from town reached her ears; pausing only long enough to exchange her practice blade for a sharpened one, she hurried to the door of the arena.

"Halt and identify yourself!" Xanos called out with his usual arrogance, standing in the doorway to the school, his hands glowing with magic ready to be released.

"It's Burk, from Hilltop," the rider replied. _As the self-important ass should be able to plainly see,_ Mischa thought in disgust, stalking toward the half-orc. "A caravan of traders was ambushed a day's journey outside of town. They killed the men, took the women and children. One of the men played dead and managed to make it into Hilltop."

"Ambushed?" Mischa felt a surge of righteous anger. "The kobolds again?"

Xanos gave her a contemptuous look. "The kobolds would have killed everyone, you little fool. Keeping the women and children alive is the act of slavers."

Burk looked at Xanos uncertainly, but nodded his agreement with the half-orc. "The one who made it said that they looked like humans…maybe a half blood elf or two. Corporal Drey said that we should ask for your help; he's worried that the kobolds might come back if he leaves the town unprotected."

"What?" Mischa's shock at realizing what was intended for the kidnapped traders was swept away by a flash of outrage. "That coward! Of course we will –"

"We will go nowhere." Ayala stepped forward, her green eyes giving Mischa a quelling glance before turning to Burk. "Tell Corporal Drey that the safety of Hilltop and the surrounding lands is his responsibility, and that I can assure him that the kobolds will not return." She turned her attention back to Mischa. "We have a higher duty to attend to, child. Master Drogan would be the first to tell you this, if he were able."

_Child?_ Mischa's knuckles whitened as she clenched the hilt of the sword. "So _you_ say," she spat, "but I don't believe that Master Drogan would allow innocents to suffer while we run about seeking things that would be better off lost. Camden and the others may be more interested in currying favor with the Harpers than in doing good, but _I_ am not." Giving the elf a final, defiant glare, she squared her shoulders and turned to Burk.

"I'll go."


	10. Chapter 10

"Now what?"

Cam glanced at Dorna, who was regarding him expectantly. They were crouched behind a boulder in the lair of Tymofarrar, watching as the white dragon used a claw to pick the remnants of his last meal from his teeth.

_That's a young dragon?_ Admittedly, Camden had absolutely no prior experience with dragons of any kind, save the pseudodragons that one or two of the palace mages kept as familiars, but 'young' to him implied 'small'. Tymofarrar's head was easily as long as Cam was tall, the fangs in his mouth a handsbreadth in length and cruelly pointed.

"I'm thinking." Between the two of them, making their way through the cave system without drawing the attention of too many of the kobolds living there had been a relatively simple task. Dorna had found and disabled more traps than could be counted, and the few fights they had been forced into had been easily won, the dead bodies stashed in the nearest available nooks and crannies and the two invaders fading back into the shadows by the time others arrived to investigate.

The kobolds knew that something was up, but few of them seemed to share Deekin's intelligence, and they wound up racing about in noisy, easy to avoid mobs. A few of them had possessed sufficient presence of mind to set up a guard outside their master's lair, but they had been quickly routed when, in a bit of innovation that he was rather proud of, Cam had opened the gate on the pen restraining a sizeable herd of cattle, presumably kept to sate the dragon's appetite.

The resulting stampede had left the way clear, and on one of the corpses, Cam had found the shortsword that was now sheathed at his hip, its blade glittering with frost. He doubted that the enchantments on the weapon would be of any use against the opponent they faced now, though, even if white dragons weren't immune to frost magics. Hells, he'd known going in that fighting was not an option; trouble was, he wasn't sure just what his options _were_ now. Should they approach him openly, or wait until he fell asleep and try to search the lair for clues that might help in negotiations, or –

"You might as well come out where I can see you." The dragon's rumbling voice held an undeniable touch of amusement. "I just ate, so I'm really not feeling like searching myself, and the kobolds are most displeased with you. If I have to call them in to flush you out, they're not likely to be gentle."

Camden stiffened, exchanging a chagrined look with Dorna. "Stay here," he whispered. With luck, if things went wrong, she could make her way back out as stealthily as she had come. She glared at him but stayed put as he stood and moved from behind the boulder, his hands open at his side, well away from his weapons.

The massive head turned to regard him, the eyes a midnight blue that almost hid the black of the cat-slitted pupils. "Both of you, if you please; dwarf as well as human," he said lazily, a single, slate-grey claw tapping on the stone beneath his paws. "My sense of smell is quite keen."

Dorna moved to stand beside him, her expression stoic. He'd definitely picked the right companion for this venture, Cam decided. Mischa would undoubtedly be waving her sword by now, and the gods only knew what Xanos would do.

"Closer, now," Tymofarrar ordered them. "No reason for us to shout at each other across the cavern, is there?" His eyes never left them as they complied, his tongue flickering out to test the air as they drew near. "You don't look like dragonslayers," he mused slyly. "Thought you'd have a go at sneaking in and helping yourself to my hoard?"

"We wanted to know why your kobolds attacked Hilltop and robbed Master Drogan's school," Cam replied matter-of-factly, his voice giving no hint of the anger and frustration seething in him. The murder of the townspeople and Drogan's poisoning had been carried out on the instructions of this smug lizard, but there was not a damn thing that he could do to take revenge. Recovering the artifacts had to take precedence…right after keeping the two of them alive.

_For now_, he promised silently, _but if I ever find a way to get to you…_

The dragon threw back his head, his laugh booming through the cavern. "Oh, you _are_ bold ones," he exclaimed delightedly. "Watching you make fools of my loyal subjects, as simple a task as that might be, has been entertaining enough that I decided to let you proceed. I suppose that before I eat you, I could reward you for that entertainment by indulging your question." He shifted his massive body, wings rustling slightly as he extended his head toward Camden.

"Because I wanted to," he purred. "I desired the items that the dwarf possessed, so I took them."

Cam clenched his teeth, managing not to flinch as the dragon's hot breath washed over him, redolent with the stench of raw meat and offal. "But you don't have them now, do you?" He replied, forcing calmness into his voice and mind; if there was a way to turn the situation to their advantage, they couldn't afford to miss it. "And there's no way that your kobolds will be able to get them back from the gnolls."

The dragon's head drew back and upward, the eyes narrowing in sudden anger, and Cam felt his heart sink. "What is this?" he hissed suspiciously. "Some new trick of J'nah's? She robs me, then has the effrontery to mock me? I'll send your gnawed bones back to her in a burlap sack!"

"Do that, and there'll be paladins swarmin' through these caves within the week, out for yer scaly head," Dorna spoke up, glaring at the creature. "They know that ye be the one behind the deaths in Hilltop, and they'll not rest until yer dead!"

"She's right," Cam put in, quickly picking up the direction of her thought and building on it, seeing the sudden apprehension rippling across Tymofarrar's face at the mention of paladins. "I don't know who this J'nah is, but if she had any part in the attack, we might be able to convince the paladins to let you be. If she tricked you, for instance…" He trailed off suggestively.

"She betrayed me!" the dragon burst out with a petulance that was the first real indication of his youth. "It was she who told me of the artifacts and created the plan to steal them. She gave me the magical powder that my kobolds used to pass the wards; she said that all she wanted as her share was the tower, but then her gnolls stole everything! She is the one to blame!"

"We might be able to convince 'em of that," Dorna told him, "_if_ ye can tell us where she can be found."

"The gnolls have a lair in the High Forest," Tymofarrar grumbled. "Beyond that, I do not know. She always appeared here." His expression turned sly again. "As a gesture of goodwill, I can offer an item that will bind her magics, making it much easier to kill her."

So, he had been planning a betrayal of his own, and J'nah had merely beaten him to the punch. "I think that would convince the paladins of the sincerity of your remorse at being so misled," he replied magnanimously, tipping Dorna a wink as the dragon rose and lumbered toward the rear of the cavern, which was shrouded in shadow. There was the jingle of coins sliding against each other, then moments later, the dragon returned to them, a small glass phylactery dangling from his jaws on a black silken cord. The phylactery was filled with a dusky red powder.

"Toss that at her feet," Tymofarrar rumbled as he lowered the phylactery into Camden's hand, his eyes glittering with spiteful pleasure. "It will last for a minute at most, but that should be more than enough time for the paladins to dispose of her, and if you can convince them to part with her lying head, I will pay you a handsome reward. I rather fancy the notion of watching the kobolds kick it around for a few years."

"I'll see what we can do," Cam agreed, "but you know how paladins are. Will we be attacked by your kobolds if we try to leave by the way we came in?"

The dragon raised his head, sibilant words falling from his mouth and drifting unintelligibly around their ears; a large stone rolled to the side, daylight illuminating the time-worn walls of the suddenly revealed tunnel.

"Go now," Tymofarrar ordered in the manner of a monarch granting a generous boon, "and do not neglect to tell the paladins of my willingness to aid them in the destruction of an evil as great as J'nah."

"I'll tell them as soon as they arrive," Camden promised with full sincerity.

"One more thing," the dragon called after him before he reached the mouth of the tunnel, "if you encounter a kobold who calls himself Deekin, I'll double your reward if you bring him along with J'nah's head. He is a poor excuse for a bard, but it would set a bad example if I let him get away with trying to escape."

"I'll keep my eyes open," Cam agreed as readily as he had to the first behest, glad that he had forgotten to make mention of the kobold earlier in the conversation.

No sooner had they emerged into a ravine on the far side of the tunnel than the air around the opening shimmered and blurred into a wall of seemingly solid rock. Camden reached out a hand, touching the rough surface; if it was an illusion, it was a complex one.

By unspoken agreement, the pair remained silent until they were well away from the area.

"A shame t' leave the scaly bastard alive," Dorna grumbled as they reached the spot where they had left their packs hidden beneath some bushes.

Cam nodded. "No way that we could take him on," he said resignedly. "Doesn't mean that we can't bring in someone who can, though," he added. "Nice touch with the paladins, by the way," he congratulated her. "I didn't think he could get any whiter."

"That did get his attention quite nicely, didn't it?" the dwarf smirked. "I figured if the kobolds were the best he could manage for lackeys, he couldn't be too damn high'n mighty." She gave him a sly wink. "Ye _will_ remember to tell those paladins just how helpful he was, right?"

"Just as soon as I see them," he replied with a wicked grin. They'd faced down a dragon in his lair and not only lived to tell about it, but obtained more information, and a possible weapon. He felt that a bit of smugness could be permitted. "I notice that his loyal subjects didn't seem to have told him everything about how the artifacts were lost; he didn't know that someone besides the gnolls had the hand."

"Sure, an' would _ye_ be admittin' that ye'd given the thing away as a useless trinket, if yer master was the type t' eat those that displeased him?" Dorna snorted. "Don't be so sure that they didn't tell him about that Deekin stealin' the tower, though."

"No," Cam agreed. "He wouldn't want us to know about that. If that was the one piece that this J'nah was interested in, then he'd damn sure want it for himself. I wonder who she is?" he mused.

"If the lizard was tryin' t' get the pallies to do her in for him, then she's not likely t' be one that we can take on alone, either," the dwarf morosely.

"Maybe not the two of us," Cam murmured, rolling the phylactery between his fingers thoughtfully before wrapping it in a handkerchief and tucking it into his pack, "but with this, the four of us might stand a chance."

"_Four_?" Dorna's eyes widened in disbelief. "Ye don't mean t' say that yer actually considerin' bringing Her Holiness along?"

"She's the best fighter of any of us," Camden replied seriously. "I'll try to recruit some help from the Hilltop guard, but from what I've seen, she's better than them, too."

"She can fight well enough," the dwarf agreed with a sour expression, "but she's got all the tactical ability of a bugbear."

"Tactics are my job," Cam reminded her with a cocky grin.

"An' ye really think she'll be keen on takin' orders from ye now?" Dorna inquired pointedly, her skepticism evident.

"She will if she wants to come along," Cam said flatly, hoping that his idiocy the night before they had left had not pushed Mischa to the point that she would be unwilling to accept him as a leader. _Never thought about that, did you, you jackass?_ "For now, I'd like to find out if Ayala has heard of this J'nah, and let her take a look at that red powder, see if it will really give us an edge or if it's just a trick of the dragon's." He shouldered his pack, waiting for Dorna to do the same before activating the focus crystal set into his ring.

The brief disorientation of the teleport had barely faded when the pair found themselves facing a highly agitated Nani.

"I tried to talk them out of it, Cam," she exclaimed, wringing her hands in distress. "I tried, but Mischa was dead set on going; she'd been in a right foul mood ever since the two of you left, and when Burk showed up with the news, there was no reasoning with her –"

"What news?" Camden grasped her shoulders, trying to calm her enough to get some sense out of her. "Where did they go?" No need to ask who 'they' were.

"Chasing slavers." Ayala strode into the room, her green eyes sparking with irritation. "A caravan of traders was ambushed outside of Hilltop, and the local guard has evidently been so cowed by their encounter with the kobolds that they are unwilling to brave larger opponents. She shook her head in disgust. "Mischa insisted upon going, and Xanos wasn't about to chance losing out on any glory to be gained."

Releasing Nani, Cam exchanged a glance with Dorna, seeing in the dwarf's eyes the same mixture of exasperation and foreboding that was rising within him. "How long?"

"They left a bit over an hour ago," the elf replied. "Were you able to find the dragon?"

He nodded, lowering his pack to the floor and pulling out the phylactery. "He claims that someone named J'nah controls the gnolls, and that the attack was her idea. He slid the glass amulet from the handkerchief. "He said that this could help to defeat her; see if you can figure out what it is, and we'll decide what to do when we get back with Mischa and Xanos."

"There's no time for that," Ayala said with a dismissive gesture as she accepted the phylactery from him. "They'll have to bear the consequences of their own impetuousness. The recovery of the artifacts – "

"Is of secondary importance," Cam cut her off, his eyes narrowed in anger, "and Master Drogan would be the first to say so. Mischa and Xanos are his responsibility, and as his senior student, that makes them _my_ responsibility."

"One who hopes to join the Harpers should not dismiss their interests so lightly," she informed him in a terse voice.

"Guess I'll just have to take that chance, then," he shot back with deliberate flippancy. "I'm beginning to get the feeling I wouldn't be a good match, anyway."

"Nor would I," Dorna put in, glaring indignantly at the elf.

She watched them in silence for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "Do as you wish, then," she said simply. "I will attempt to determine the properties of the phylactery and its contents before you return…_if_ you return."

Ignoring the jab, Cam turned to Nani. "Where were they going?"

"Northeast of Hilltop, Burk said," the cook replied, glaring daggers at Ayala. "Said it looked as though the captives been taken down into the canyon."

Cam nodded. "We'd better move, then," he said, checking the weapons at his hips and making certain that his throwing daggers were still set securely in their sheaths on his belt.

When they were gone, Nani turned on Ayala, her blue eyes sparking with anger. "And is that the type that you Harpers are recruiting these days? Those who would ignore lives at risk to chase down dusty antiques whose powers aren't even known?"

The elf regarded her calmly. "We seek those able to focus their attention to doing the greatest good for the greatest number," she replied, a faint smile crossing her face as she added, "but we also try not to recruit individuals who are ruled by their own ambitions, or can be herded about like sheep." Turning, she made her way upstairs, leaving the housekeeper to stare after her, shaking her head bemusedly.

OOO

Not for the first time, Camden wished that Master Drogan kept horses at the school; even if they weren't permitted to use them in their trials, they would be damn useful for running errands and for certain situations when timeliness was important.

Now, for example.

He supposed that Drogan had assumed that his teleporting ability would always be available to them. At least they still had their rings, each set with a fresh focus crystal; without them, they would still have been a full day's walk away from the school.

The last few hours had fortunately been physically undemanding, meaning that he and Dorna still had sufficient energy reserves for the cross country run, skirting the northern edge of Hilltop (neither of them was in any mood to deal with the Guard) and making for the mouth of the box canyon known as the Gouge for the way that it appeared suddenly, digging into the earth a hundred feet deep and perhaps two hundred across at its widest point, running just over a mile before ending in a blind wall, as though the enormous blade that had raked the ground had been withdrawn abruptly. The interior was thick with trees and underbrush, and erosion had carved multiple caves into the sheer walls, aided not infrequently by the hands of those who had discovered that the place was an excellent spot to cache stolen and smuggled goods.

Drogan had warned them away from the Gouge, only conducting trials there when he had inspected it himself to ensure that no outlaw bands of any size were currently in residence. Things had been quiet in the area since just before Mischa's arrival at the school.

No longer. The sounds of combat became audible as they entered the canyon, along with the cries of women and children. Cam lengthened his stride from an energy-conserving, ground-eating lope to an all out sprint, unsheathing short sword and dagger as he left Dorna and her much shorter legs behind.

The sounds grew louder as he forced his way through the undergrowth, finally coming upon a game trail that showed signs of recent use by creatures moving on two legs and wearing boots. Twisting, he followed it until it opened abruptly into a clearing against the canyon wall. He remembered this place: a spring bubbling up out of the rock made it a choice spot for bandits to set up.

His eyes flashed around the clearing, quickly assimilating what he saw. There looked to have been over a dozen slavers, but Mischa and Xanos had managed to reduce that number by at least half, judging from the number of bodies laying about.

The situation was deteriorating rapidly, however. The two students were widely separated, Xanos beset by two of the remaining slavers, blood staining his robes as he held them off with a sword in one hand while the other blazed with blue flame. He had exhausted his stronger spells, then, if he was resorting to Burning Hands.

Further away, Mischa had her back to the canyon wall as she faced four opponents, all of whom had evidently developed a healthy respect for the two-handed sword that she wielded. Her plate armor had afforded her better protection than the half-orc's cloth, but she was clearly wounded, blood streaming down her face beneath the helm she wore and most of her weight supported on her left leg, her right hampered by a blow that had deeply dented the armor over her thigh.

Without breaking stride, Cam sheathed his fighting dagger and drew two of his four balanced daggers, throwing them one after the other in a smooth motion, striking the nearest of Xanos' opponents in the back of the knee and upper thigh, where the leather armor gave no protection. Neither hit was fatal, or likely even particularly incapacitating, but the unexpected pain provided a distraction that the fighter-mage was quick to take advantage of, the tip of his sword finding the gap beneath the leather gorget protecting the man's throat and withdrawing in a gout of blood.

"Couldn't stand to let Xanos get all the glory, eh, Camden?" he bellowed by way of greeting as he turned his full attention to his one remaining foe, his eyes burning with a savage glee.

Camden didn't pause to answer; the half-orc's odds were now considerably better than Mischa's. One of the four had made the mistake of turning in response to Xanos' shout, and the greatsword lashed out, cutting through the leather armor and biting deep into his chest, but in exploiting the opening, Mischa had left herself vulnerable. A compactly built half elf wearing chain mail stepped in, swinging a mace (likely the same one that had injured her leg) in a savage arc that ended at her left shoulder with a clash of metal and an audible crunch of bone.

She never made a sound, but her left hand fell limply to her side as she struggled to adjust her remaining grip on the greatsword. Fresh into battle, she might have managed it for a time, but in her current condition, the tip was already wavering badly.

Snatching the last two daggers from his belt, Cam let them fly, each to a different target. One struck home, and a burly, dark-bearded human collapsed, clutching at the blade that had buried itself deep in the back of his right knee. The second skated harmlessly off the leather armor protecting the shoulder, and the target, another half-elf, rangier and armed with twin daggers, spun to face him as he drew his own dagger and dropped into a fighting stance.

The half-elf with the mace lunged forward again, but something sang through the air inches from Cam's head, and a crossbow bolt sprouted from the half-elf's throat, announcing Dorna's arrival to the fight.

The dagger wielding slaver wove toward Cam in a half crouch, his expression alert and cunning, filled with hate. He lunged, hands flashing in a series of feinting strikes. Cam blocked most of them, but felt a thin line of fire trace down the inside of his left arm as one of the attacks connected. He flexed his fingers on the hilt of the dagger: no damage to muscle or tendon, and the cut was a shallow one, the bleeding light.

He dodged to the side as his adversary launched another attack virtually identical to the first, his style more reminiscent of first blood duels than a fight to the death. Cam escaped without further wounds, but the half-elf attacked again almost immediately, seemingly in a berzerker's rage now, heedless of his opponent's weapons. He again stepped to the side, evading the attack as easily as he would the blind charge of an angry bull, his dagger hand sweeping in low, beneath the flashing blades, burying his weapon to the hilt in the half-elf's gut and twisting it free.

Even as the slaver dropped to his knees, Camden was spinning to complete the combination, the frost on the blade of the shortsword washed red as it slashed deep into his opponent's throat. The half-elf gave him a mocking smile, his eyes glinting spitefully as his last breath escaped him in a visible mist, cooled by the strike of the enchanted blade.

Cam stepped back as the slaver collapsed facedown on the ground, his eyes already sweeping the clearing, taking stock of the situation. The slaver who had been facing Xanos was down with one of Dorna's bolts in his back, and Mischa had driven her sword into the chest of the one that Cam had wounded and was leaning on the weapon for support. Nothing else was moving.

His heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears, he took an unsteady step forward, seeing for the first time the cave that had been turned into a cage, and the women and children of the caravan imprisoned behind the makeshift wooden bars.

"What in the Nine Hells were the two of you thinking?" He was shouting, but his voice sounded strangely hollow in his ears, and his eyes seemed suddenly unwilling to focus. His muscles abruptly betrayed him, and he fell to the ground, dagger and sword slipping from his fingers.

_Poisoned blade, you idiot,_ he realized with chagrin, his mind feeling oddly detached. No wonder the half-elf had contented himself with striking to wound, and no wonder he had looked so damn smug when he died.

His mind still wrapped in a cocoon of shock, he tried to push himself upright again even as a swirl of darkness dragged him down hard, Xanos' shout in his ears and his last sight that of Mischa hobbling toward him, her face ghost pale beneath the blood.


End file.
